Years under the Stars
by Rogercat
Summary: Long before Valinor, long before the birth of Fëanor, his parents lived a very different life... Please notice that this is a genderbent AU!
1. Chapter 1

_**A new life**_

 _Author's note: Welcome, dear readers to be a new story set in the Tolkien world. I would love to thank my fellow writers Lidsworth and Maylovelies on AO3 for some headcanons on their respective Tumblr profiles about Míriel Þerindë and her fate. From there, I got the core of this tale, which will be about Miriel as main character. But not as a normal Elf or as a Queen of the Noldor. No, this tale will be about Miriel as a Maia, and as the father_ _of Fëanor since I wanted to try a genderswapped version of the first generation in the House of Finwë._

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

Even with everything the Valar had done to prevent Melkor from finding the Firstborn Children of Eru after their Awakening, they knew not where in Middle-earth the Children had woken up or come into being. As such Oromë increased his rides out to the distant Eastern continents, continually hunting the spawn of Melker to ward off dangers for the coming Children. After one such hunt—during which he stumbled upon a nest of wyrms—the Huntsman returned home wearied and scarred.

" _Oromë, did you find them_?" a voice called out as Nahar crossed the Pelóri to Valmar. Scarce had he touched than the ground than his wife, Vána, ran out to him, golden hair fanning out in her haste, Varda's stars glinting. As Nahar slowed to a stop Vána reached him, concern etched across her fair face.

Oromë shook his head, wincing in pain.

"Nay, no sign of them yet. Melkor's shadow is too long. I fear that we may not find them in time. My Maiar are stretched thin as it is—ow," he moaned as she placed an herbal cloth to his wounds. "Please, Vána, let me down first."

As the other Valar approached them, following after Vána, Oromë climbed off his steed, simultaneously trying not to fall off and fending his wife's worried hands from dabbing his face. It was a ghastly sight to behold, even with his amazing inner flames. Deep marks from poisoned claw and fang had scored his face deeply, a burn line entwined around his neck, and one of his eyes was permanently closed. Such was his state that Ulmo, instead of focusing his power, blasted him with salt water instead of more soothing fresh water. Oromë howled and Vána shouted at Ulmo as the latter frantically tried to apologize.

Not far behind, as Mandos and Vairë held up a circle-shaped light together, some of their own Maiar showed up behind Oromë, having been dispatched to help in his search for the Children. They too, as the Vala, had been involved in several battles that had left marks on them.

"By the love of our Father… this was not how we hoped for the Children to enter this world in… a world of danger and darkness which they do not know how to protect themselves from…" Mandos whispered in a shaking voice, filled with worry and fear, as he held one injured Maia in his arms. The Doomsman looked around at his fellow Valar, hissing in shock as his mind was suddenly flooded with a vision. While he was no seer, only able to see hints of the future that often were confusing, Mandos had a growing feeling that this vision was important.

"Brother, what is wrong?" his brother Irmo wondered in worry, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder at Mandos' tremors. He rarely had a such violent reaction.

"Spirit… of fire… two different families… shared blood…" At his strange words, Nienna looked around as if searching for something which should have been there. When looking over the numbers of the present Maiar she realized something worrying.

"One of Vairë's Maiar is missing! The little spirit of fire who always lightens up your tapestries while you work on them!" she exclaimed in a panic.

Hearing what she said, Oromë paled in fear at the memory of the unexpected battle against some Valaraukar in addition to the wyrms, which he and the Maiar had done just before coming back to Valinor—this accounted for the whip burn. In the chaos of that battle the Maia must have gone missing either to injury or capture.

"I pray to Eru the spirit of fire has not been captured by Melkor," he whispered. Vána, who held her cloth against his face firmly, looked pale. Manwë answered solemnly, "We'll find him."

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

Pain. Pain everywhere from the injuries the Valaraukar had given him. Flashes of the landscape passing by in his hurry to get away from the battle, the surrounding chaos as Oromë and his fellow Maiar vanished in a different direction once the fire demon was killed.

"I need to hide and heal," he thought frantically, "before returning to Valinor! I am of not much use with these injuries…!"

Even when being in spirit form, the Maiar could actually be injured by any Ainu, but not outright killed. While most of them knew how to defend themselves, the Valaraukar was a horrible enemy in battle. Being taken by surprise did not really help matters either. Finally, the Maia collapsed to the ground in fatigue, taking the shape of a small fire among the leaves. The shape of faint embers was a sign of that he was dangerously close to unconsciousness, unable to bring himself strength anymore.

"Not good… I can barely move anymore… I need to hide…"

Something moved in the bushes around him, but he could not see what it was. Spiritually, it did not appear to mean any harm, so perhaps an animal curious about the small fire. But what revealed itself from the bushes was rather unexpected—not an animal, or a fellow Maia. It was a young creature, from the size and long limbs for the body; the hair was a rich chestnut brown in colour, seemingly lighter towards its golden bronze-coloured skin and black eyes.

"Papa! There is a little fire here!" the child called, kneeling down and poking on the embers with some dry grass to keep it going. Footsteps were heard before her parent arrived. While his daughter was completely nude apart from a little necklace with a wolf fang, the elder wore an animal skin loincloth to protect against thorns and brambles.

"Well spotted, Beril," he said approvingly. "With some work we will soon have a warm fire in front of our hut." Her father patted her on the head with pride as he bent down to carefully collect the embers with a large piece of bark. As they walked back to the camp, the father gently blew from time to time to keep the small fire alive.

When they arrived to a small hut made of tree branches and dried reed hidden amongst the trees, Beril hurried over to her mother to tell her how she had spotted the fire her father carried in his hands. Smiling at the tale the mother gave her daughter some mashed berries to wait while waiting for the dinner. Once they had gotten the fire into a pleasant heat and size, Beril's father prepared three fishes to roast over the fire.

In the light from the fire, the difference between his wife and himself was apparent. Both parents and their daughter were dark skinned, but where Beril had inherited her mother's black eyes it was from her father the brown hair came from. He had very light grey eyes, almost matching the silver of his wife's hair.

"I am hungry," Beril whined.

"Easy, sweetie, the fish is almost ready for eating."

Neither one of the parents was surprised that Beril was hungry; she was a growing child, and needed lots of food. She was not the only elfling in the camp they belonged to, but it had been awhile since the last birth in this group of Elves. They feared the dark beings around, those who could snatch someone away if they wandered too far from the camp alone. Beril did not know about it since she had not been born at that time, but she had already lost an older brother to the Dark Rider when he had been just a little older than her current age.

"It is good that you eat well, Beril, it will help you grow strong as an adult," her father said at seeing that she had finished her grilled fish. After being given some water from a bowl of dried clay, one of her father's own making, Beril started to blink tiredly.

"Bedtime for you, dear daughter."

Removing her own loincloth before picking up her yawning daughter in her arms, the mother took the chance to slightly shake her hips alongside a blink to her husband, who realized the unspoken signal and grinned inside as he stroked the fire with a stick.

"It would be pleasant to possible have a new child soon… Beril would be happy for a sibling she could grow up with," he spoke mostly for himself, unaware of the longing look in his eyes. The loss of their firstborn had been devastating, and they had almost feared the idea of getting a new child only to lose the son or daughter as well. But the clan needed more children; they needed to grow in number so they could protect themselves better. The Dark Rider never attacked large groups.

"Beloved."

He looked up from the fire, smiling as he kissed his wife with deep, honest passion when she bent down over him. Breaking apart because they needed to breathe, faces flushing deeply, he allowing her to push him backwards on the animal fur which laid just beside the hut opening, and almost tore off his loincloth in the touches across his muscular body.

No one had any trouble in seeing a couple involved in love-making out in the open, since it was how the animals did, and the sense of moral decency had not yet made itself known among them. A growing moan in his ear told the husband that he had hit the right spot to give her pleasure as she started to ride him. Neither wife or husband noticed that the heat from the fire outside seemed to grow even stronger in response to their movements, and angled toward them as if pressed by an invisible wind…

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

Many months later, the wife was in the beginning of labour, being almost ready for delivering her third child out into the world.

"M—Mom?" Beril asked, looking a bit nervous. No big wonder, she was excited about becoming a big sister but was worried for her mother when she had started to show signs of being in pain.

"I am fine, dear daughter. You said something about having chosen a name for your sibling?"

Beril nodded, before almost whispering:

"Mirwë… I thought that Mirwë would fit…"

Both the parents smiled, and nodded at one another.

"A very nice name," her father said. "I am sure that we can grant that name once your sibling is old enough for the naming ceremony where you got your own name, remember?" Beril grinned, recalling when she had gone from her toddlerhood nickname of "little hunter" to given her actual and current name of Beril, which meant Protector because of her habit of trying to help protect the tribe despite her young age.

Her mother gasped slightly. "Time for me to enter the birthing hut. Honey, can you and Beril please prepare a basket for the baby to be carried in while I am there?"

"Of course, dearest."

Giving her an encouraging kiss on the forehead, the father signaled to Beril to come along to the hut's corner where they had some extra animal skins.

"Even if you may not have children of your own, it can be useful to know how to make a warm sleeping basket for a baby. Now, take one of my wicker baskets over there and check so it is not broken somewhere…"

Finally, one of the midwives came out from the birthing hut and called for everyone's attention with the words:

"We have a new member of the tribe, and there is no fear for mother and child. Both are well after the birth."

Beril and her father were given many congratulations on the way to the birthing hut, her carrying a wicker basket with the warmest and softest pieces of fur they owned to serve as a very simple cradle.

"You have given the tribe a new son and blessed your wife with a male child of her colours," the head midwife said as she carefully handed the crying baby, wrapped in a soft rabbit skin, to the father who was teary-eyed in joy.

" _Waaaah! Waaah!_ "

"Shhhhh….there, there, son… be quiet… do not fear. Your mother is not far away," the father soothed the baby in his arms, who whimpered a bit but was calmed by the familiar sound of his voice. Father and daughter entered the birthing hut, the small family was to stay there for some time in order to bond properly with the newest family member.

"Look at you, son. You seem to shine different from the other children born in this tribe. Why is that?" The father wondered as he cradled his newborn son.

The mother was tired after birth, but smiled at seeing her family. With her husband and daughter sitting down around the birth bed, she took back her son to give him his first milk. Beril, who had touched one of the tiny little hands with a finger, curiously held one of the small silver locks on her brother's head between thumb and index finger, the hair making his dark skin colour looking even darker than Beril due to the difference in hair colour between the young siblings.

"Why have he not opened his eyes yet?"

"Some babies do not open their eyes right after birth, Beril. They need a little time to open them." her father responded with a smile. She almost pouted in return, just as her brother finished nursing.

"Open your eyes, little brother, let us see what colour they are!" she pleaded softly, in an attempt to sound encouraged. As if hearing, the baby slowly opened his eyelids to reveal a set of stunning silver eyes. The parents laughed in pride.

"Someone here is gonna be a very handsome one as a grown-up. You are going to need to watch yourself from the ladies of other tribes if you catch their eye." The father chuckled while the mother took a careful look at her son's tiny hands. In her mind, she could almost see them grow into a set of slender hands with long fingers, perfect for working on finer details like his father who was skilled in making pots of clay.

" _Þerindë_ ," the mother said clearly, giving her son his mother name, which meant "Broideress". They had first mistaken his spirit for being female because it did not have much male sensation while in the womb and thought that they would be given a new daughter, but it was not unheard of such mistakes given how much spiritual powers it was in this tribe.

Beril, who now had her finger in a steady grip inside a tiny fist, could not help but suddenly say:

"His palms are rather warm, don't you think?"

"He may be still a little warm from the bath to clean him after birth, nothing to worry about."

As they talked, the baby looked around in wonder at them and at the star light from the sky far above the camp. Yet he did not fuss, only tried to mentally come to terms over that he possessed an actual body of the earth instead of one of his own fashioning as when he had been a pure spirit. Even if it had been rather unexpected to become one of the Children in a manner like this, he knew that as long as he was unable to protect himself when he was this young, they would protect him. In time, he would return that favor somehow.

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

Notes: _Mirwë_ is supposed to be the masculine form of Miriel, the prefix _Mir_ meaning "Jewel" and the suffix _-wë_ a masculine name-ending, like Finwë.


	2. Chapter 2

_**New Leader**_

* * *

 _Author's note: I have a headcanon that some of the earlier Elves may not view marriage as monogamy, aka one single partner during their lives as later in Valinor after meeting the Valar. As such, it could have been a custom among some smaller tribes to actually have more than one spouse if the first one dies or they goes though a version of divorce. However, I do NOT think they would use polygamy unless there is a serious imbalance between the genders in the tribe._

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

From his earliest years, it became clear that little Mirwë—or "son of fire" as he was nicknamed until his twelfth year where during the naming ceremony he would earn his true name—stood out from his peers and the rest of the children in the tribe. That he was a quiet child was nothing unusual, they learnt early on to not scream too loudly in fear or joy unless they wanted to draw the attention of an adult for something.

"Mother? Mother, where are you?" Mirwë called at seeing a group of She-elves sitting together to make new clothes from the herd of deer killed in the latest hunt.

"I am here, son. Do you want to help out?" Nordis asked her son. Elflings of both sexes were encouraged to help out in different chores; the more skills they knew the better they helped their tribe when adults.

"Can I try to scrape clean the skin?"

Getting the skin clean from animal fat and dried blood was not easy for a small child, and the flint scrapers were very sharp, so everyone had to be careful in order to not cut the fingers or hands by mistake. Nordis gave him the skin and started a new task as he worked.

"This skin is cleaned; can I get some of the twigs used to stretch them out?" Mirwë asked later, and received them.

With the skins stretched out as wide as they could be, smooth stones were used to make them soft on the inside. This was a good task for the children, who had small hands and could use it as a kind of competition in getting his or her animal skin as soft as possible.

"It would be pleasant if we could find a way to keep the clothes on, without needing to tie them around our bodies… ai!" Beril complained slightly, her point proven when her well-worn leather belt around her upper body suddenly broke in two and her skin top fell down; she held it back with one arm, her face slightly red. It was extremely embarrassing because she had just finished growing into her adult height and started to mature into an adult She-elf. Luckily, no one commented on it as it tended to happen to nearly everyone who had worn out their clothing.

"We should be able to make a new belt for you, dear, we have a good length of it over here," one of the other mothers commented. Mirwë, who had seen his sister's troubles and understood the problem, looked away at the small pile of bones, and a smaller pile of tendons neatly seated beside the meat from the deer which was to be boiled into a nice soup later at the camp fires. Standing up, he walked over to sit down there.

During the next coming hours, Mirwë was sitting cross legged at a camp fire, a smaller amount of broken bones around him alongside an older deerskin his family had not yet used from an earlier hunt. He seemed to have a goal in mind, given how careful he did hit on the animal bones with a flint stone. Finally, he got a bone piece of the same size and shape as he had envisioned in his mind.

"Yes! Now I only need to make a hole…"

Using the thinnest flint stone he had been able to find, Mirwë made a hole in one end of the bone piece before slowly drawing a long thin tendon through the hole. Then, using one of the many stone awls they used to stretch out the animal skins, he made small holes along the edges of the deerskin. Once he thought it was enough, he took the bone piece with tendon.

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

With all his chores to do during the day, Mirwë could not just sit down and finish the new clothing he planned to surprise his sister with. He needed to help his family in finding firewood, bringing home water from the river in one of his father Camaen's bigger clay pots and gathering edible roots, berries, nuts and seeds.

"What are you doing, little brother?" Beril wondered sometimes in the evenings, to which he simply smiled over his shoulder, not allowing her to see what he was doing.

"A secret, sister."

Beril did not ask anymore, but instead focused on combing her hair before braiding it. She was still a little too young for romance, but it was not unheard of that the young Elves around her age had started to look at one another differently than before when they were younger.

"Mother, what was it you said about our leader possibly finding a mate?"

Nordis looked up from the stew of vegetables which was being cooked over the fire in one of the bigger pots her husband had made. Camaen himself was busy with making a new clay pot in a different shape than before.

"He is looking for a new female to share his bed furs and hut as his mate, as a possible mother to his own Elflings. He have been mourning his first one long enough, he says, and recalls that it would be her wish for him to move on with a new one. And his young twin daughters are in that age when a female mentor is needed about for the coming change in their bodies."

Beril almost shivered at the indirect mention of that embarrassing talk she and her mother had been having a couple of months earlier, once it had became clear that she would not be growing in height anymore.

"What changes of the bodies?" Mirwë wondered in honest confusion, looking up for a moment from what he was doing. His father chuckled for himself at the question.

"I will explain that for you when you are older, son. You are a little too young for that kind of talk between a father and son yet." Camaen promised without looking up from the newest clay shape he was forming into a pot. Mirwë rolled his eyes, but did not comment. He knew that there was details about life that could only be shared between a child and a parent of the same gender, so he refused to complain. Besides, a part of his mind was still that of a Maia, watching how the Children of Eru was living without the protection of the Valar.

"Well, it is time for dinner and then bed for all four of us, my children. So please put aside whatever you are doing for now," Nordis called after tasting on the vegetable stew. They used empty zigzag scallop and other kind of big flat shells to pick up the food to their mouths, Camaen had talked about using his skills with clay to make a different kind of items to eat the food on, but he needed to figure out a good shape.

Finally, after a couple of more days, Mirwë was finished with the new clothing for his sister. It had taken some time, for the thread of tendons was not always as long as he would have liked and often needed to add a new one.

"Sister Beril, come and look what I have made for you!" he called from the hut opening, waving a hand to get her attention from the training she was doing with a big stick, the top end carved into a pointed edge to become a simple spear. Finishing off with throwing the spear into a outworn animal skin placed over a tree stump, Beril walked over to where her little brother was sitting.

"What is it… oh?"

Beril was not surprised over that Mirwë often helped to make new clothes for the tribe, but this was something totally new. The animal skins was not held together in the manner she was used to, they were held together in the sides by something…

"Holes in the tendons? Mirwë, how did you do this?"

In response, Mirwë held up the bone needle and thread of tendon he had used so she could see.

"I think I have found out a new way to keep our clothes together, I am calling it sewing," he smiled at her while Beril pulled the new tunic over her head to test how it would fit on.

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

Life went on for the couple of more years in the camp. In terms of age, Mirwë was now the equivalent of a Elf in his 24th year of living. By now, almost everyone in the tribe had caught on the sewing he had invented and prefered to use it to make clothing of the animal skins. So he was still young, but old enough to start helping out with some more tasks than before. Like starting to catch smaller prey in traps hidden inside the bushes around the camp.

"You made a good catch of that rabbit, Mirwë. Our parents will be proud," Beril said in pride as they walked back home to the camp, him holding a dead rabbit by the ears while Beril had managed to get a good shot on a pheasant with her spear.

"I am happy to be able to help with getting food for the leader's new mating ceremony this evening to his new mate… wait, what was that? Surely that is just the wedding drums… right?"

Beril pushed him closer to herself, her black eyes scanning over the area around them and her ears searching for any odd sound. Then, she spotted a pair of slant yellow-coloured eyes among the bushes. She did not waste a moment, but quickly picked up her brother under one arm to start running and screamed in alarm:

" _YELLOW EYES! Yellow Eyes!_ "

The warning was only barely enough to warn the camp just before anything happened. The fanged monsters, called orcs, were short in statue compared to the Elves and looked like nightmares incarnate for those who had never seen them before—squat, broad, flat-nosed, sallow-skinned, bow-legged, with wide mouths and slanted eyes, long arms and dark skin.

"Keep your claws off my baby brother!" Beril hissed as she kicked an orc away from herself and threw her spear into the throat of another, just as she ran into the camp.

There, the leader and the rest of the adults had picked up whatever they could use for weapons.

"Infants and children up in the protection trees! You youngsters, keep the Yellow Eyes away from the trees!"

A small group of cedar trees was in the middle of camp, high in height far above the ground and with thick trunks, ideal for climbing up into in case of danger. Mirwë was tossed up upon one of the lowest branches by Beril, then given a infant to keep with him on his back as he climbed upwards the top. The adults, who had survived similar attacks before, was now only too grateful of the defensive wall they had built around the camp of branches with sharpened points outwards and blackberry bushes with thorns added to cause extra injury. The wall forced the attackers towards the single opening, where the adult Elves were ready. True, they had only simple spears and flint stones of different shapes to use, but it was better than no weapons at all.

"Keep them out of camp and away from the vulnerable tribe members!"

Meaning the children and pregnant mothers who was in their last months before birth. Among them, was Mirwë's mother Nordis, heavy with her fourth child in the nine month. A injury to her at this time in the pregnancy would risk things going wrong for either herself or the unborn daughter under her heart when it was time for the birth in three months' time.

"Mother, please hurry over here!" Mirwë screamed from the branch he was up in, hoping that by standing at the cedar trees she would be better protected. Taking up a leather sling from a pocket in his belt, Mirwë used it to send away a stone as weapon against the monsters, the stone landing in a deadly hit on a head.

"Good hit, son!"

As Beril also used a sling to turn simple stones into deadly weapons, Camaen sacrificed many of his newly made clay pots as similar weapons to throw, after all, it was easily to create new ones later. And hits in the head tended to be an effective way of killing foes.

"Beril, watch out!"

Seeing the incoming danger which a orc was about to cause, their mother Nordis pushed her adolescent daughter out of the way, only to take the fatal hit to the head by the wooden club herself. She collapsed on the ground, the blood from the deadly wound on her head straining her silver hair.

" _ **MOTHER!**_ "

The horrified screams from both of his children caused Camaen to look over his shoulder to see his beloved Nordis fall to the ground, a mistake which nearly cost his own life when a orc grabbed his loose hair from behind and forced him down on the ground.

"Father!"

With Beril trying to protect her mother's body, Mirwë acted without thinking first. Quickly sliding down to the ground, he grabbed a large branch where one end had two pointed smaller branches in a Y-shaped form.

"Mirwë?! What are you doing, get back up in the tree!" Camaen screamed in panic, fighting to keep the sharp stone dagger from entering his throat.

"Mother would not want you both to leave us, father!"

Using a stone from his sling to break the orc's focus on his struggling father, Mirwë threw the branch with all his strength. Granted, he was too small and slender to have the needed strength, but getting the throat caught in the Y-shaped branch still forced the orc off Camaen, who kicked the orc away from him.

"Stand back, son!"

His now late wife may have been the better hunter and warrior of the family, but Camaen still had a couple of tricks of his own. In this case, a long leather sling with two stones tied in each end, which he threw around the legs of the orc to prevent it from moving. Drawing his own flint dagger, he knew that his coming action likely was a very selfish one, but the sight of his dead wife had left a quickly-growing void in his heart. If he lost his children as well…

It was a mutual kill, Camaen not managing to avoid the blade from entering deep into his gut in time. He fell to the ground with the screams of his children echoing in his ears, the shock of the injury causing him to not really feel like he was present.

"Father! Father!"

He tried to look at them through a mist covering his sight, his beloved daughter and son who he always had been so proud over since their births. Neither he or Nordis had any siblings or parents themselves, who would look after them? Beril was not of age yet, she was too young to be living alone with only her younger brother in a family hut. He tried to say something to them, _anything_ , to soothe their tears in this very moment, but the great blood loss from the wound in his gut claimed his life under the sound of crying from his two now orphaned children.

Several more of the adult Elves had fallen once the last of the Yellow Eyes had been killed or driven out of the camp, either already dead or injured in a manner which would make death claim them soon. Among them was the tribe leader Ruiven who tried to stop the fatal bleeding wound across his chest.

"How many?" he asked between gasps of pain, no doubt wondering the number of tribe members which they had lost in the attack. His intended mate, who knew that she now would never go through the mating ceremony with him, desperately tried to keep her tears under control as she looked around to count the fallen tribe members.

"W—We have l—lost ten adult males and four adult females… one with her child still under her heart…"

Ruiven looked disheartened at hearing that, looking away so his black hair almost covered his face. Being blind in one eye from an earlier battle, he looked around with his good eye on the Elves who had gathered around their fallen family members.

"Father, please, please… do not die! We do not have a planned leader if this would happen!" his oldest daughter pleaded, knowing that neither herself or her younger sisters were leader types, they would be unable to lead the tribe.

"Beril… get me over to Beril, quickly!" he panted in pain, both of his twin daughters obeying that order by helping him up on his feet so he could slowly walk between them. Once they came over to where Beril and Mirwë was beside their dead father, Ruiven took off his necklace made of the tusks from a boar and the fangs of a wolf fasted around a leather string. His hand was trembling when he placed it around Beril's neck, yet his voice was strong and clear when he spoke his final orders, the request to his chosen successor:

" _Lead the tribe to a new place, far from here. The Yellow Eyes may come back here to either kill us or bring us away to the hands of the Dark Rider. Perhaps one day the tribe could return here, but now this place is no longer safe. For the sake of those who live now and those who will be born in the future, leave this place where so many of in this tribe were born! One day, bring your own descendants here…_ "

He gasped for breath, unable to say anything more, but Beril understood the untold meaning and showed her respect for the leader by going down on one knee despite the silent tears in her face.

"I hear and obey your words, Leader Ruiven."

Smiling faintly in pride and relief at knowing that the tribe would be in good hands with Beril as the new leader despite her young age, Ruiven drew a final breath before his spirit left his body. A high wail in grief echoed though the camp.

Allowing herself to cry for a few minutes in grief over her parents and everyone else who had died in the attack, Beril gave her first order:

"We need to ensure that the Yellow Eyes or wild animals will not destroy their bodies. Help we wash the blood of them, dress them in their best clothes and add ocher on their bodies." This was a burial custom for the tribe. "Prepare one of the huts as their grave."

Her voice was thick from all the raw grief, but everyone obeyed. They could not carry their dead with them on the coming journey; the scent of decay would only draw predators to the tribe. Once all the dead had been placed side by side in a hut, their own parents in a pose as if they were hugging each other in sleep to keep their unborn child safe, Beril nodded to her brother.

"Mirwë."

Together, Beril and Mirwë held the burning tree branch which was used to set the hut on fire. Being the new leader and her only family member, this was their task in burials. As the fire rose high to star-filled sky, she commanded once more:

"Gather everything we can carry and find the hollowed tree trunks we use in fishing on the deeper parts of the river. We need to leave as fast as possible."

She and Mirwë had only a few items left of their parents, items they would treasure above everything else in their lives. It would be something they planned to give to their own children, the importance of a family staying together even if something forced them apart for a long time. Perhaps one day they would meet their parents again, and the little sister they had lost before birth.

"The Yellow Eyes… I will never forgive them for taking our parents and unborn sister from us, Beril. As long as I draw breath, as long as I can fight… I will kill them. And I will teach my own descendants to do so as well, should I ever marry and father children." Mirwë whispered as tears fell anew from his silver eyes, his words far too seriously for a child of his young age. Yet Beril knew that he spoke the truth.

"Then, I promise to teach my children that as well. Relatives need to stay together, and help each others."

Brother and sister held the hand of each other, silently supporting the other in a manner which they eventually would grow famous for once they were fully grown adults.

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

 _Author's note:_ Nordis _is a female Sindarin name meaning Runner, seemed to fit for a female hunter-gatherer Elf._ Camaen _is a genderless Sindarin name meaning Skilled Hand, which was a good match for someone who could be among the first Elves to make clay pots._ Ruiven _means Hunting Husband in Sindarin. And yes, Mirwë is gonna be more than just unsurpassed in weaving and needlework like Miriel in canon, I plan to make him a warrior as well._


	3. Chapter 3

**First Meeting**

Many years had now gone since the Orc attack which had orphaned Beril and Mirwë, and forced their tribe to move to another place. However, their tribe was only one of several smaller tribes not really belonging to any of the larger clans of Elves—Vanyar, Noldor and Teleri as their names were to be known later.

Three young Elves, who were to play important roles for their respective clan together in the future, were already friends at this point of youth.

"Finiel, mind your steps so you will not fall down… Olwë, Elmo, please remain still for a little while!" Elwë called from where he was on the ground, trying to keep an eye on his two adventurous younger brothers at the same time, his silver hair flying around his head as he stressfully tried to keep the two elflings around. The golden-haired Elf beside him, looked up in annoyance from his task of braiding the three snare lines together, given that he just had gotten an old branch landing straight on his head.

"Let them run around here, so we can fix this hunting trap. The Elders will be displeased if we cannot manage to catch some animals of the deer herds," Ingwë commented in a dry voice, removing his loosened hair from his eyes in order to see better. Movements in the tree above them revealed that the only She-elf among them seemed to be laughing.

"Do not worry, Elwë, I will try and spot them from here," Finiel promised as she looked down, her thick black hair falling over her shoulder in the braid she had.

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

Having already hurried away to find something else to play with, Olwë and Elmo caught sign of a brightly honey-coloured butterfly ahead of them.

"Lets try and catch that one! Big brother may like to see it!" little Elmo shrieked in excitement, Olwë already trying to do so since he had the same idea. Trying to catch the butterfly was not that easy, given that they were rather young and the butterfly flying above them.

"Try to be more quiet…"

Finally, the butterfly landed on a fallen tree trunk in front of a minor steppe just outside the small forest. The two brothers tried to catch it when a movement was seen in the high grass. And not just one, or anything that could be a friendly animal either. A neigh revealed it to be a horse, but it was no sound of the herd. And something was moving above the grass as well.

"That is…."

Suddenly a group of orcs revealed themselves.

" _ **AAAAAAAAAH!**_ "

They had barely started to run back into the forest, when the group of orcs came after them. Elves who ended up astray from their kin were the easiest to catch, and especially Elflings due to their small size.

"Brother! Brother!"

Back in the glade, Elwë had just taken a step back to check so the trap was well hidden, when he and Ingwë suddenly got each one of his younger brother in the back. Given by the high speed Olwë and Elmo had been running in an attempt to escape the orcs, all four ended up landing into the trapping pit.

"Ouch! Ok, that was not funny, you two! You just wasted half a day's work to build and cover the pit…" Elwë started in his scolding, however, he was interrupted by the panicked Elmo clinging to his leather tunic while almost yelling:

" **THEY WANT TO EAT US!** "

"What!?" Ingwë wondered, getting up on his feet and peeked over the edge, only to see the large group of orcs. Finiel, having jumped down on the ground at the screaming, knew that they were in seriously big trouble right now. She could not count on defeating all the orcs alone, and with her friends trapped in the pit she could not get enough time to get help. Apparently, Ingwë was of a similar mind since he blew hard in the hunting horn to call the attention of the other hunting groups.

"Finiel, watch out!" Elwë cried as an orc nearly speared her, Finiel was no warrior in heart or mind, she knew how to defend herself but had never fought against orcs in a situation like this one. In fact, as she took a step back in order to get better aim for her spear, Finiel was unfortunate enough to get her left foot caught in a snare and found herself unable to move freely, and if she bent down to free herself, it would only give the orcs a better chance to kill her. She was actually so unprepared on the snare that she ended up tripping backwards in front of the trapping pits with her friends just as a orc raised a large axe, made from an animal head with its teeth still intact, to behead her.

" _FINIEL!_ "

Suddenly, just as she thought her life to be over, a new shadow fell over them from the trees and the orc found itself forcefully kicked back with a powerful kick on the face and a unknown spear landing in the throat of another orc as a new elf landed on the ground in front of Finiel. She saw a glimpse of something shining bright in the starlight coming from the sky, but thought it may the weapons. The orcs trying to attack, only to be either killed or injured by the sharpened bone daggers the stranger had in the hands.

"Watch out! Behind you!" Finiel tried to warn the unknown elf, which caused one orc to only be successful in grabbing hold of the hood as it earned a deadly stab in the stomach. With the hood pulled off, the stranger was, even in the middle of battle, a bronze-gold male elf with stunning silver hair set up in a high ponytail and two smaller hair loops behind his ears. As he turned around for a moment to pull back a new arrow on his bow, a pair of silver eyes met the grey of Finiel. Not losing his focus on the battle for a moment, the arrow went flying past Elwë's head in the trapping pit to land in the throat of a orc behind him.

"Watch it with those arrows! You could have hit one of us instead!" Elwë shouted, somewhat shocked over how the situation had turned so fast. The stranger did not answer. Pulling out two extra bone daggers he had on his back, he finished off the final orcs with a skill revealing that it was far from his first hunt or killing of those horrible beings. In fact, he even took time to free Finiel from the snare around her foot by tossing a dagger into the ground on the snare. Though it seemed like he had no plan to stay, given how was quick to jump back into the tree branches after taking back his arrows. He vanished before any of them could beg him to wait.

"Who was that?" Ingwë asked in confusion, where he was trying to climb up from the trapping pit, just in time as the hunting party arrived to the scene.

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

Miriwë jumped along the tree branches far above the ground. His tribe was going to be pleased over the news that he had killed more orcs, the lesser that remained of those horrible monsters the better. The sound of hoofs revealed that his chestnut-coloured mare had found him as well. She galloped below him, neighing at him as if saying that she would rather have him on her back.

"Yes, Suldal, it is time to return home to the camp," Miriwë responded before jumping down from a branch. The mare jumped over a fallen tree, making him land perfectly on her back before she galloped further away.

The camp was not too far away, hidden in a naturally big glade between several oak trees, protected by a wall built of larger tree branches which had fallen down in storms, with sharpened stones and blueberry torn bushes added in between the branches. The two guards at the single entrance spotted his silver hair soon enough.

"Miriwë is back, lady Beril!"

Riding into the centre of the camp and dismounting, Miriwë first checked Suldal for possible injuries before ensuring that she could return to the small herd of semi-domestic horses which lived outside the camp.

"So, brother, having fun on the hunt?" Beril asked with a thin smile on her lips as she walked over to him, the siblings hugging each other.

"Yes, I thank you much for allowing me some time for hunting, dear sister. I feel less restless now in my body."

Beril nodded, knowing that Miriwë had an inner fever in his blood to get rid of orcs when he could, haunted as they both were by the memory of how their parents had died.

"Oh yes, as long as you are able of returning safe and sound back to us. Now, I believe that you are needed in the weaving hut, you did promise that you would show something about the woad plants you had tested around."

Miriwë smiled, happy to show more of what he had found out and invented. A couple of years after coming of age, he had figured out how to weave clothes by wool and plant fibers. The felt textile made of matting, condensing and pressing fibers together had been a huge success in the hot summer months, when the air was warmer than in winter when they needed the animal furs to clothing to survive the cold. Though error and some failures, Miriwë had later created a weighted loom which he had used to spin the plant fibers into a tread. The weighted loom had eventually given him inspiration to create a warp-weighted loom on which he could weave clothes on with the thread.

Walking over to the weaving hut, Miriwë greeted the Elves already sitting there and working.

"Hello, everyone. Ready to be shown how we can make our clothes even more colourful than before?" he greeted with a smile, seeing that they had obeyed his request to cut the leaves of the woad plant and form them into balls, which had been left to dry. Sitting down with crossed legs, Miriwë crushed one such woad ball into a powder in a small clay bowl with a smooth stone, then added said powder into a bigger pot.

"Okay, why is the urine needed for this?" someone asked.

Ignoring the question, Miriwë added some lime and then moved around in the pot with a stick so that it would mix into a sediment. Once it had become stiff, they picked up the pieces to grind it into a powder again. Again they were using urine, heating it up in a large pot over an open fire outside and then carefully adding the woad powder into it. Then, adding some wool threads into it and stirring, the wool thread changed colour into blue when they picked it up in the air by a stick.

"My, look at this…!"

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

At the same time, some of the elders of the bigger clans were scolding Finiel, Ingwë, and Elwë for having left the hunting party against the given orders to remain close.

"You three do realize how close you were to actually dying today, right?! All because of that you left the hunting party!" Tata, the second of the three Elf-fathers and first leader of the Noldor, almost screamed in fury, hands raised in the air as he walked back and forth, the bone pearls in his carefully braided hair making the smaller braids flying around his head in pace with his movements.

"If anything could have gone even worse, you could have been dead or worse! Elwë, you were tasked with showing your younger brothers how to do a simple snare, how hard was that to do?!"

"We have learnt our error, Chieftain…." Finiel responded in a low voice, kneeling in front of him with her head bowed down. The scolding felt like a verbal slap in the face for the three friends, and they could only blame themselves for not following the given orders in the first face. As if the scolding was not enough, they were not allowed to have their share of the evening meal this day and not allowed to leave camp for the next five days.

Once the scolding was finally over, they were allowed to leave to whatever chores they had.

"Great, this day really become NOT as planned. So much for the hope of helping out in the hunt today…" Ingwë commented as they walked past the long line of huts and tents. Elwë nodded in agreement, neither one of the three friends were in a good mood but they had a quiet agreement that Olwë and Elmo had gotten enough punishment in that they would suffer from nightmares about the orcs for the coming nights.

"Pardon if I make it sound stupid, but I would have liked that handsome stranger to at least give us his name so we could thank him for saving our lives if we ever meet him again…"

Finiel herself did not seem to notice how she especially spoke of the mysterious stranger as handsome, but Ingwë did see how Elwë changed his facial expression for a short moment at her words, his grey eyes almost showing a hint of jealousy. He had realized a long time ago that Elwë had a rather serious crush on their shared female friend and it was almost painful to watch how slow-witted Finiel was to his attempt to show his feelings for her. Ingwë could count on his fingers the times Elwë had given Finiel a gift and she had mistaken it for something else.

"I need to return to my family hut before my parents will be even more angry with me over what happened today, because I failed to watch my little brothers properly. My ears still hurt from the boxing mother gave me before in her anger…" Elwë spoke before hurrying away, not once seeing in Finiel. No wonder, Ingwë thought for himself, unrequited feelings were like a thorn in the heart. Being the only one of the three who was married at the moment, he had some better understanding of romance than the other two. He and Finiel did the same, bidding each other a good day before returning home to their home huts.

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

 _Author's note:_ Finiel _is the female Finwë in this story, just like_ Miriwë _is the genderbent Miriel._ Elwë _is Thingol's original name, which I think he may have changed upon becoming King of Doriath._ Suldal i _s a Sindarin horse name meaning Wind Foot._ Tata _was the second of the three Elf-fathers who awoke at Cuiviénen, becoming the first known leader of the Noldor. And yes, in this AU young Thingol have a serious one-sided crush on Finiel_ … _come on, anyone who reads the Silmarillion knows that canon male!Finwë and Thingol were very good friends, why not transform that friendship into something else for a AU story?_


	4. Chapter 4

**Different Tribes**

"So, we are going to the great camp where other clans are gathered?" Miriwë asked Beril as they left their camp, followed by some of their best warriors as bodyguards. They had left the tribe in the hands of her second-in-command, an elder Elf who they could trust to protect the tribe while they were gone.

"Yes, we should be able to do a good barter with the fabrics coloured by your dye, little brother. Because I think they have never seen blue fabric outside getting blueberries on their clothes and we all know how difficult those strains can be to wash off!"

They all laughed in agreement, especially Miriwë who could recall the scoldings he had gotten in his adolescent years for trying to use blueberries to his first dye and being seen as wasting food.

"And it is nice to meet other people once in awhile as well. There is also a bigger chance to possibly meet our own future mates if we look away from the tribe at times."

That neither Beril or Miriwë had found a mate yet to share their huts with and begetting Elflings with was something which had worried the tribe elders for a time. It was seen as a bad omen if the tribe leader remained without a mate for long, and being the only living relative of the current leader, Miriwë would also need to find a mate in order to keep their bloodline alive.

"Yes, let's try and see if something may happened while we are at the bigger camp. With some luck, our future mates are there as well, or it could just be that they are not born yet?"

Beril nodded at that suggestion, before taking the lead as they rode on.

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

It was a big camp indeed, the biggest one Miriwë had seen yet in his life. Mentally courting the present huts which could be seen, he guessed that it was at least two-hundred huts and tents down on the steppe.

"I see why you was unsure to bring me along on the earlier trips, sister…" he finally managed to say. Beril only nodded in response, she had actually feared to bring her brother along just because of that he was very good-looking and would naturally attract females to himself like bees to a flower. Their shared bronze skin colour along with his silver hair and eyes tended to make people catch sign of him, and she feared that his good locks may give him serious trouble with unwanted attention. Especially now when he was a fully grown adult Elf and old enough for marriage…

"Come on, let's set up our tents at the edge of the camp. And Miriwë, please try and cover your head with your hood, your silver hair may draw attention before we even have arrived."

"Yes, Beril."

Seeing that it was a feeling of rain in the air, everyone else took the chance to cover their heads before riding down.

Ingwë and his wife Isilmiel had been busy with finding long sticks that could become arrows to use as weapons against orcs, Isilmiel having their sleeping infant son Inwion in a sling on her back, when they both saw an unusual sight: ten unknown horses with Elves riding on their back. Now, semi-domesticated animals like sheep, goats and dogs was slowly becoming more common around the larger camps, but horses? Not here at least.

"I do not think we have seen those Elves before, honey," Isilmiel said as she pushed back a hair curl from her face. Ingwë turned around to see what she meant.

"No, we would have remembered if someone had managed to tame horses in a such manner," he agreed just before Ingwion woke up and wailed softly to get the attention of his mother since he was hungry. Giving him an apologetic look, Isilmiel sat down with crossed legs in order to nurse Ingwion while Ingwë took over the sticks she had gathered.

"Our son is more important than this task, focus on him for now."

"Speaking about children… your sister needs to find herself a husband of her own, I am tired of her nagging over almost everything when we visits your family hut…"

Ingwë could not blame his wife for that complaint, he had often similar thoughts about his younger sister Vanië and could be pretty open about them thanks to her being a rather prideful woman who was currently still unmarried and living with their parents in the family hut.

"I already pity the Elf who eventually marries her, I just hope that she will not cause trouble for our family in the future. I know what she wants to either marry a chieftain or at least having her future children marry one, so she aims rather high in her hope for marriage…" Ingwë said with a strange feeling of dread, hoping that his own family would not be dragged into that kind of possible trouble. A loud burp told him that Ingwion was finished with his meal.

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

Thankfully, it had only been a light passing rain, so they had not gotten much wet. By now, the three tents had been set up with a fireplace about to be started and Miriwë setting up a frame loom outside the tent which he and Beril shared. Once he had warped some yarn around the two shorter ends, he started to weave with a new tread from plant fibers by using a shuttle made of wood.

"Wonder if it should be alright to show people from the other clans how to weave? Of course, it would likely be wisest to ask permission from their own leaders first, so I do not cause any misunderstanding…" Miriwë thought for himself as he looked around, not surprised at all over the curious looks which was sent towards his frame loom. Seeing a couple of ladies standing a bit away, he sent them a flirtatious smile over his shoulder and chuckled to himself when they hurried away with flushed faces. Just because he had not found a mate to share his life with yet, did not mean that he must avoid tempering others. Though a yarn ball gently tossed at his head revealed that Beril had seen it as well.

"Try to keep it low for now, little brother." she said in a gentle voice as she started to make a fire.

"Pardon my absent-thinking, sister."

There was no rules in their tribe about which sibling that was allowed to marry a mate first, but it was frowned upon if a younger sibling were mocking elder mate-less siblings by parading his or her own mate around in front of everyone.

"I better keep an eye on you, so no one tries to steal you while we are here…" Beril sighed in a slightly worried voice, which Miriwë could not really blame his older sister for. A such event had actually been dangerously close to happen while he was still a adolescent, with an unknown She-elf trying to kidnap him as a future mate and only Beril's quick reaction on his screams for help had avoided an unhappy life for him.

When they were roasting some skinned rabbits over the fire as a meal, a unknown Elf came over to them. What surprised the siblings, however, was that his hair was a strong reddish-brown hair with more towards the red shape, a hair colour they had never seen before.

"Well met, newcomers. I saw you arrive earlier and thought that you maybe would be interested in a barter?"

Given that he had a small bag likely filled with goods, Beril and Miriwë shared a look in agreement before Miriwë brought out some of his finished cloaks and tunics he had sewn over the past months. Going from the wide eyes of the new Elf, he had never seen anything coloured in a different colour than natural green, brown or beige.

"Wow… how… I have never seen…" he spoke in stunned wonder as he stroke a hand over a red tunic made from wool coloured with the rose madder plant.

"Nature have a lot of secrets which can be found if we just tries something new," Miriwë grinned in pride while holding up a blue cloak. The red haired Elf opened his bag and revealed that he had several circular bangles made of copper in different sizes, something really unusual from the normal ones of leather normally used. Some of them were even bended into a braided shape.

"How about one of the blue cloaks for ten of those? I have a wife-to-be and I was hoping of finding something special to be used as her mating cloak at the coming summer feast."

Mating cloak was the term used for the cloak a groom would place on his chosen bride's shoulders before making a vow of keeping her as his chosen mate for life, and those mating rituals was favoured to be done in summer when it was warmer weather and more food was available for the feasts.

"Where are my manners! I am named Mahtan," he suddenly said after slapping his own forehead at realizing that he had not given his name. Miriwë smiled as he held out his own hand.

"Miriwë."

Even if they were of different tribes and only just had met, Beril could guess that her brother and Mahtan possible could become very good friends in time. Personally, she was just happy for if it would happen, it was always useful to have allies from other tribes and Miriwë could need new friends outside their own tribe where he knew everyone. Besides, Mahtan seemed like a decent young Elf, which was a good bonus in terms of friendship. It was nothing strange if a married Elf was friends with a unwed one, they could exchange information about how it was to have a mate that might otherwise be difficult to talk about if both did not have a mate yet, along with there was some things which could only be shared with people of the same gender.

"Ten bangles for that blue cloak, deal?"

"Deal."

They shook hands as proof of the agreement, before Mahtan laid the wrapped cloak inside a more common one made of plaited grass to hide it until the mating ceremony as a surprise for his chosen lady.

"See you during the feast sometime over the coming days! Would be fun to see one of you going though the mating ceremony as well," he called while weaving with his arm, before leaving. The siblings shared a sad smile.

"Not this summer for sure, it is not viewed in a good way if a couple tries to undergo a mating ceremony only days after meeting each other for the first time," Beril sighed at recalling stories she had heard about such couples and how their life as mates would turn out to not be that easy together once time passed.

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

Naturally, their presence could not remain unseen forever during the feast. More than once, Beril had to actually hold up her spear in a warning pose in order to have Miriwë be left alone from the unwed She-elves around the camp. Both siblings were good-looking, but especially Miriwë tended to draw attention because of his silver hair and similar-coloured eyes, being rather exotice-looking for those who had never seen a Elf of dark skin colour before.

"Sometimes I wishes that you were less handsome, for the sake of peace for us both," she once said during a meal of a meat stew they had made together. Miriwë nodded without a word, shuddering over how one practicar bold Noldor She-elf had even attempted to kiss him that very morning before he had managed to put his frame loom between their faces. Beril, in all her glory as a protective older sister, had angry chased the Noldor She-elf away under some rather serious threats in where to put her spear into.

"I think you have right in that, sister. But then, things are different in that it is different tribes and strangers… oh?"

Suddenly someone tripped over the small bushes nearby. It was a golden-haired male Elf, holding a now wailing infant in his arms who looked enough similar to him that they had to be father and child.

"Sorry, Ingwion, I was not checking the ground properly," Ingwë apologized nervously to his crying son while checking him over so the boy had not been harmed in the tripping. He gave Beril and Miriwë an apologetic smile over the shoulder while managing to calm down his son, who now had found a part of his father's golden hair to chew on.

"He seems like a good father, not yelling at the baby for starting to cry or trying to find his wife," Beril smiled while Ingwë hurried back home to his hut. Miriwë, who had gathered their wooden bowl together to wash them clean in the river, smiled as well because of the fond memories from his childhood he recalled. It still did hurt, the memory of how their parents had died, but they had to move on for the sake of their own futures.

Soon it was time for the mating ceremonies, where couples was joined together as chosen mates. Using a hood to hide his silver hair for the time so he was left alone from unwanted attention, Miriwë saw Mahtan giving the blue mating cloak to Celuwen, a fellow Noldor who had the rare hair colour of muted strawberry blonde, as a sign of her being his chosen one. Judging from the varied green grass and leaves which she had braided together in order to be able to wear it as a very unusual dress, she clearly had some skills in making clothes and Miriwë decided to let her become a new student in his weaving lessons. Both Mahtan and Celuwen wore flower crowns as a sign of being one of the couples to become mates.

"I wonder what kind of mating ceremony they will hold here?"

Mating ceremonies varied a lot between different tribes. For example, in the one led by Beril, a mating ceremony generally consisted of the couple dancing in the middle of a ring of fire before entering the husband's hut to consummate their new relationship as husband and wife.

"Look, Mahtan seems to be ready to do something."

Indeed he did, Mahtan proved his strength by actually taking hold of Celuwen around her waist with both of his broad hands and spun her around in the air as if she had been a flower while she laughed in joy.

"Come here, my sweet butterfly!" Mahtan laughed as he carried her in his arms towards their new shared hut.

A couple of hours after that mating ceremony, when Miriwë had returned to work on his weaving, did he see Mahtan and Celuwen come towards his and Beril's hut. Celuwen was still covered in the blue cloak, since she seemed to have taken a likening to it.

"Ah, here is the happy couple. How does it feel to be mates?" he greeted with a smile, stopping in the middle of switching a blue thread to a red one in the pattern of the weaving as he was doing at the moment.

"It feels good that it is finally over with the ceremony after waiting for the summer feast to come. And I am much grateful for the cloak Mahtan brought…" Celuwen admitted with a bit of shyness as she looked at Mahtan and then on the frame loom with all the honest interest from someone who realized a chance to increase their skills to make clothes in a different manner than before.

"Do you want to see how I does, and learn?" Miriwë offered before taking up some scoured wool from a basket to show her how to use a spindle in order to spin the wool into a long thin thread. As Celuwen tried her understandably rather clumsy first attempts to spin a thread, Miriwë noticed something about Mahtan's hands:

They were covered in smaller blisters here and there on the hands, blisters of the kind which tended to result after holding something very hot or from a fire. From when he had made the bangles? Very possible, Miriwë recalled watching his father working with fire to make his clay bowls become harder so they could be used to carry water and food, their father had sometimes burnt his fingers, hands and even the forearms on the fire just as he would lift out the hardened clay bowls.

"Mahtan? Would you like to have some kind of protection for your hands when working? Those blisters look rather painful."

Beril tried to give several hand signals to Mahtan that he better keep his mouth shut, she knew that glimpse in her little brother's eyes as that he had gotten an idea and would most likely try it out this very moment.

"Oh, I would love that, but the problem is that no one have really figured out how to make such gloves. I was hoping for leather ones, it is strong and…"

Mahtan got a honest surprise when Miriwë suddenly almost slammed down his whole forearm on a piece of leather, using his own elbow and weight to make Mahtan spread out his fingers before drawing a rough stretch of the open hand and forearm by a piece of black coal and then releasing Mahtan.

"I tried to warn you, he can be like that when het gets set on something," explained Beril to the shocked couple as Miriwë used a stone knife to cut out the shape and then repeating it on several other pieces of leather which he then set together to sew the four pieces into two leather gloves. Since he was the most skilled one at sewing in his tribe, it did not take too long before the silver-haired Elf had a set of leather gloves finished.

"You clearly matches Mahtan in being fast on what you are doing with your hands…"

Miriwë smirked in pride at those words, he always enjoyed being praised for his skills and especially when it was something meant to help others.

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

When Mahtan invited Miriwë for a quick swim in the river before it was time to sleep, he followed along. Few people was up at this time, so there would be no worry about being seen by someone else.

"A possible change in chiefs?"

"Yes, the First Fathers Imine, Tata and Enel are starting to feel that it is time for the new generations to take over some of their duties as Heads over the Clans, we are now enough many that it should be safe to spit up in smaller groups if it should be needed," Mahtan explained as he swam further out in the deep water. Miriwë pushed his bangs out of his face to see better as he listened.

"And who are chosen for that task? As the new possible leaders, I mean?"

"Well here among the Noldor it is a She-elf named Finiel, I believe she is a daughter of one of lord Tata's first followers if I remember right. The Vanyar clan it is a friend of hers, a married Elf named Ingwë who already have his first child with his wife. And in the Teleri clan it is their shared friend Elwë, it is pretty hard to miss him because of that impossible height of his…"

For some reason those three names seemed to click somewhere in the back of Miriwë's mind though he did not recall where or when he may have heard those names.

"Though given how your sister have mentioned that you seems to be a target for a lot of unwanted attention from unmated She-elves, I would suggest that you stay away from Ingwë's younger sister Vanië. She is old enough to be mated and from what I have seen with my own eyes, having a desire to find a rather high-ranking husband. I am a bit unsure if the size of your tribe would be good enough for her ideals, but you being the brother of the leader…"

Miriwë shuddered in fear, understanding what Mahtan tried to warn him for. Back in the tribe, everyone knew that Beril would never allow a such personality in a female mate to him, because it would almost mean a high risk that her leadership over the whole tribe would be challenged eventually. A inner fighting in the leader family affected everyone, and if they could not work together it was a growing risk that they would be unable to defend themselves against Orc attacks just because they could not agree on the orders given.

"Seems like our group better leave this camp soon then, before she manages to spot me and tries anything which neither myself or Beril will like. My sister does not joke when it comes to using that spear of hers."

It was not without a reason that Beril was known as one of the best spear users in their tribe, and she would not hesitate to use the spear if she had a reason for it. The female Elf who had tried to kidnap him as a adolescence had learnt that lesson the hard way, paying with her life against the fury of Beril over nearly losing her brother.

"I do not doubt that. Any kid of hers will likely be trained personally by her in using and throwing the spear at enemies like herself. Hopefully it will just not end up with a dead spouse or offspring by mistake."

That comment caused them both to laugh, though Miriwë had a strong feeling of foreboding about the deeper meaning of that. A son or daughter of Beril, possibly getting involved in a accidental slaying of her or his own spouse and child…

Miriwë did not like that feeling, not at all, he wanted his future niece or nephew to have a happy life and not be haunted by a prophecy of doom.

"The start of a such doom better not be coming from sister's future mate! If so, I shall follow another tradition in our tribe and take responsibility for my niece or nephew at birth, taking over the role of fatherhood from the father if he proves himself unworthy of being the mate of the current leader but managed to make her pregnant before it was revealed!"

Had Mahtan still been in the river, he would have noticed how the water temperature around Miriwë had quickly grown hotter almost to the point of boiling, especially where he had his hands. Not that Miriwë himself seemed to care as he went back to the river bank so he could dry himself off.

At the same time, Finiel had been summoned to the hut of Tata and his wife Tatië.

"You asked for me to come, Leader?" she asked after the greeting bow to him, where he sat cross-legged on a large bear skin. Tata held his eyes closed for the moment, but opened them at the sound of her voice.

"Yes, Finel. I called you here to tell you… I will hand over my Leadership over the Noldor to you at the end of this summer festival. However, it will be a heavy burden on your own if you do not share it with someone. In other words, you need a mate, a _consort_ to the new leader. If you have a consort by your side, you have a better chance to be taken seriously by those who already have gone through the mating ceremonies. A leader without a mate are not seen as fully understanding what kind of troubles two mates can undergo in their relationship and there is a high risk that you would be viewed as not really be fitting for the role without someone at your side."

Tata implied the fact that the Elves needed to stay together in order to survive against orcs and other dangers which could so easily happen to a alone Elf who did not stand with others. Scouting for dangers was one thing, but a very different one to actually be exiled for a unacceptable behavior or flat out crime which had put others in near death-danger.

"I understand, lord Tata. I shall start seeking for a suitable mate from now on," Finiel promised in a serious voice. She did not doubt the unspoken warnings Tata had given her in his speech, a leader without a mate risked to not leave any descendants if they never found a mate. And in the spirit world for the afterlife, having descendants was important as they would offer prayers for her soul after death.

"See you tomorrow, Finiel."

With those words, she was bidden to leave the hut. Once she was well out of hearing, Tatië looked at her husband before saying in a slightly worried voice:

"I do not doubt your choice in that Finiel will be a good leader for the Noldor in your stead, honey, but I have a strange feeling…"

Tata held up his hand to silence her, but not because he did not want to listen on her worries.

"Tatië, I understand that fear as well: her _subconscious impatience_ , that she actually is not as patient as she may look like or pretends to be in front of everyone else. That, my dear wife, alongside her worrying habit of playing out favoritism even if she does not really mean it, is the main fatal flaws of Finiel as a personality. But I hope that with time and with increasing maturity over the years along with the help of a steadfast husband at her side, those flaws will not be allowed to grow stronger."

She nodded in agreement to his words with a small smile in relief, both hoping that Finiel would find a future mate soon. Perhaps she may need help in finding that Elf, and if so, they would help her in secret.

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

Author's note: _in canon the wife and queen of Ingwë is sadly unnamed, so I am using the name_ Isilmiel _which I gave her in another one of my stories here as well. It is a bit unclear how Indis is a close relative to Ingwë in canon, but according to the LOTR wiki she is his sister-daughter, so I have given him a younger sister here, named_ Vanië _which means Beauty in Quenya, to show how different I imagine Ingwë and Indis to be in upbringing and personality, besides I think it is a bit of a cliché if someone is the younger sister of a King in stories, why not a niece for once? The wife of Mahtan is unnamed in canon, so I tried to give a hint to their future grandsons Sindarin names by naming her_ Celuwen _, which means Stream Girl in Quenya. I headcanon that before meeting the Valar, the Elves believed in nature spirits and in a sort of afterlife set in a spirit world._


	5. Chapter 5

**Home Tribes**

Miriwë had just helped Celuwen finish her first attempt in sewing when her eyes became darker.

"Hide yourself in the hut quickly, Vanië is coming from over there!" she almost hissed with pure venom in her voice. Thinking that it was must be a reason for that, Miriwë hid until the blonde She-elf had passed by and he could come out again.

"Bad history between her and yourself?" he asked carefully. Celuwen, out of habit, began to braid some long grass before responding:

"She used to bully Mahtan for his red hair back during the summer fests when we were Elflings. More than once it ended with me pushing her into the mud or him doing the same when he had enough of the insults. His hair getting likened to that of fire got old already the first summer…"

Well, that was a reason for dislike which Miriwë could understand. Bullying had never been accepted in his tribe, though there had been friendly teasing from his peers that his silver hair would reveal him for prey animals before they had managed to fell a animal.

"No surprise then. Bullying can give a lasting bad memory of someone. And I hope that she will not try to hook me, because I have a strong feeling that she and Beril would get along like those cats defending their territories against other cats."

Almost as an indirect proof of his words, the angry yowls from two fighting cats could be heard somewhere outside the camp. They both had to share a laugh over it just as Mahtan returned.

"How are the weaving lessons going, honey?"

Clearly Mahtan's presence cheered Celuwen up to be in a better mood, going by the sunny smile she gave her husband. Miriwë held up her handiwork to show him:

"Very well. I am proud to say that she is one of the best students I have been teaching since I invented my first sewing needle as a young Elfling. It helps a lot in that she is already skilled in braiding leaves and grass into clothes, so she knows how to shape something beforehand."

Celuwen blushed by the praise, and shyly looked away as Beril returned as well. She had been on a meeting with other tribe leaders for smaller tribes, to discuss if it was possible to allow some of the tribe members to live with another tribe from one summer feast to another in hope of sharing experience and possibly even finding a mate.

"How did the meeting go? Are we getting some new tribe members for the next four seasons?" Miriwë wondered. Beril, who had her hands up to re-braid her hair, answered:

"Yes, We will switch some tribe members on the way back to our home tribe. I am sure that you may found some new students at least."

That pleased Miriwë to hear, given that more and more Elves had caught on the art of sewing outside their tribe over the years, but there was still some tribes who made things in the old way because they simply distrusted new ideas. Not many protested if a such event happened, they were comfortable in doing things as they always had done so why nag about it?

"Sounds good, it is always fun with some new faces around once in awhile," he said, before starting to weave again.

When Miriwë just had finished the last part of that weaving he had been doing for the past few days, Mahtan revealed that he, as well, had been working on for the last part of the summer feast.

"Look, I have managed to create some kind of jewelry with the copper."

Indeed he had. It looked like he had attempted to flatten the copper pieces as much as he could, before making small holes in them and fastening them on a long thread of wool. Asking Miriwë to be still, Mahtan carefully fastened the thread with the copper pieces around his head.

"Test around the hips as well," Celuwen giggled, making Beril gently pull her brother up on his feet. Once Mahan had fasten the jewelry around his hips as well, Miriwë tested to turn around. As he did so, the copper pieces made a soft noise from his movements.

"Mathan, I think you have found something the shamans will love to use during their spiritual ceremonies to catch the attention of the spirits better."

It seemed like Beril had gotten hooked by the idea as well, since she now was tying some copper pieces around her own hips and doing a few dance steps to check the effect.

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

Soon, the ceremony for the new Leaders was happening. Kneeing in front of the three Elf-Fathers, Finiel was blessed beside Elwë and Ingwë in the hope that they would be strong and just leaders for their people from now on.

"Everyone, greet your new Leaders of the Noldor, Vanyar and Teleri Clans!"

All three of them wore a circlet made from small tree branches and flowers, acting as a sign of their new social status here. More than one Elf smiled, even Ingwë himself, when baby Ingwion insisted to grab his father's flower circlet from the arms of his mother just as Ingwë was about to kiss her and trying to play with it.

"That is not a toy, sweet son," Ingwë said before taking back the circlet so he could wear it again. Since he was already caught by his little family, Finiel and Elwë had to deal with most of the new attention.

"Pardon, please let me though…"

Finiel tried to not show jealousy on her two male friends as they were surrounded by their family members. She had still been a mere infant when her birth parents had drowned in a flood caused by a very heavy spring rain, and been taken in by Tata to be raised as one of his own children. She did not doubt them loving her as if they had been her real parents, yet sometimes it happened that Finiel had a nagging feeling of not being good enough for the different social roles she had been having prior to becoming the new Leader of the Noldor.

"One of my first tasks is to find a mate… no doubt that Elwë may have to do so as well. We are both still without a mate, but marrying each other may not be the best ideas when both are Leaders."

Had they been leaders for much smaller tribes, and not childhood friends to the point of that Finiel saw Elwë more as a honorary brother rather than a friend, she may have different feelings for him. But alas, that was not to be, not for her.

It was when she had hidden herself between some more far-off huts, as she heard someone laugh in a merry way.

"I think that drink made from the grapes have made you light-headed, silly brother!"

"Says the sister who is half-naked as well...ugh!"

The sound of someone landing in a less than graceful manner to the ground, and another laughter. Curious, she walked closer, peeking around the next hut:

Four elves was around one of the smaller camp fires. She did recognize Mahtan and Celuwen, that pair was impossible to miss with his red hair, but the other two…

They were both darker in skin colour than many others here, yet their similar faces revealed them to be siblings despite the difference in hair- and eye colour. Both were almost naked as the day they were born, yet thankfully covering up their private areas from being seen. But it was not only the copper pieces tied to their hips and heads, making noises as they danced, which caught her attention:

It was the male Elf, who had the most stunning silver-grey eyes she ever had seen. They seemed to shine alongside his silver hair. He was the most beautiful Elf she had ever seen in her life.

"With that kind of dance, the two of you should be able to snatch a mate each without too much trouble!" Mahtan laughed before Celuwen smacked him in the chest, causing him to fall backward on his back.

"I think we all four is a bit affected by that drink. Come on, Mahtan, we better get back to our own hut before neither one of us remember the right way back." Celuwen gave an apologetic smile to Beril and Miriwë before taking a steady hold on Mahtan's arm and pulled him up on his feet so they could return to their own hut for the night.

"We will return to our tribe tomorrow, just so you know!" called Beril as the young couple walked away. A handwave was hinted in the half-dark between the camp fires, before they vanished. A thud behind her told Beril that Miriwë had fallen asleep on the ground. Well, he was not used to alcohol so it was no big wonder, really. Besides, alcohol was rare in their tribe.

"Come on, baby brother, we should get some sleep before we are to leave early tomorrow," Beril said in a gentle voice as she lifted him up in her arms. It was with a minor regret that she felt how tall and muscular Miriwë was now as a adult, a far cry from the newborn Elfling she once had felt in her arms with the help of her parents. It was true that she was a bit overprotective of him, but she tried to allow him as much freedom he could have without getting attacked by some shameless female Elves who looked for a mate.

"If they are serious about getting my brother as a mate, they better be ready for a spear duel against her to win his hand!"

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

Much to her displeasure the next morning, Finiel missed to find Beril's and Miriwë's shared hut before they left. She was not exactly a morning person, which added to her becoming late. Thankfully, there was others who could at least tell her who the siblings were.

"She is a tribe leader as well?"

"Aye, for a smaller tribe that lives roughly ten wake-periods away from here on horseback. But since horses can travel a lot more faster than us Elves, it would mean at least three times ten wake-periods on foot…"

Bushing down her disappointment, Finiel went to have breakfast with some of her fellow ladies.

Unsurprisingly, she met up with Elwë later to talk about something serious between them. Namely the future mates they would need to find now as leaders.

Since they had requested to be left alone, no one knew what words were exchanged between them, but soon anyone close-by heard what sounded alarmingly like a rare quarrel between the two friends.

" _...the Noldor and Teleri is too large as tribes to be held together…!_ "

" _Yet it would solve our problems in not having mates! Besides, we know each other from childhood, surely that would be better than being mated to a stranger_ —"

" _That shall come from you who tries not at all to find a mate in the first place!_ "

" _Because it already is someone who I want to have as mate…!_ "

Finally losing his patience with how childish his friends behaved in front of almost the whole camp, Ingwë climbed up in a tree beside them and poured his freshly-filled waterskin on them both from above.

"Enough, you two! Stop acting like a set of half-grown Elflings, or I believe that the Elf-Fathers may regret their choice in successors to the Noldor and Teleri clans! Now get back to your respective clans and think over how your actions affects the clans. If it is mates you seek, then go outside this familiar area and seek a mate from the smaller clans if there is no one here who have caught your eyes for a mating ceremony next summer!"

Being the oldest of them three, Ingwë sometimes ended up in this kind of situation where he seemed to be the most mature one in the trio due to already having a mate and a child. Glaring at him from underneath their wet bangs, Finiel and Elwë departed in different directions as they still was upset with each other.

"Perhaps it truly is for the best that they do not mate to each other, I have a strong feeling that it would be a rather stormy relationship in the long run… and I better keep an eye on my sister too, I saw her glare with a alarming hungry look on that same Elf I am pretty sure Finiel have fallen for as well…" Ingwë though for himself before he started to climb down from the tree. It was not that he would refuse his sister to marry, but she had a worryingly bossy personality and tended to refuse to accept responsibility if something went wrong.

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

Unaware of the minor disagreement he already had caused in the large camp, Miriwë was very happy to return home to their tribe. Sure, it had been fun to leave for visiting a bigger camp and finding new friends here, but in the long run, home was the best.

"It will be wonderful to come home, I have missed our home camp," he said as their group on ten riders rode on.

"Aye, and as I have said earlier, there is no rush to find a mate, little brother. You will find that lady soon enough, enjoy your free life until then. At least, that is what I plan to do until that I finds my own mate as well," Beril smiled from where she looked over her shoulder in the front. Agreements was heard from their following riders on that. Among the siblings' packed belongings, was the copper pieces from Mahtan and Celuwen as a gift of friendship.

Little over ten wake-periods later, they were finally back home in their tribe's camp. Once the tribal Elves saw that it was Beril and the others who had returned from the journey, they were much welcomed back.

"They are back, lady Beril is back!"

"Everyone is back from the journey!"

"Welcome back home!"

Since he was rather popular among the children thanks to his patience and willingness to explain things for them, no one raised a eye when Miriwë was hugged by the young children around his legs and hips, even laughing as they caused him to fall over.

"Miriwë is back!"

"Please show us again how to weave and sew, Miriwë! You are the best one of our teachers!"

Many of the children loved to have Miriwë as teacher in the skills he knew, so it was no big surprise in their pleading.

"Alright, let my brother get back up on his feet, children," requested Beril and carefully removed two of the children from Miriwë by taking hold of their tunics before lifting them up. The other children were quick to obey her request so Miriwë could sit up.

"Glad to see that I will have free training about how to raise my own children in the future," he joked with a smile, grinning friendly at the youngest toddlers who now tried to climb on him. Beril, who held up her spear above her head to avoid the Elflings harming themselves on the flint stone, nodded in agreement before telling the children no in her semi-strict voice.

"Everyone without a mate should learn the basics of caring for children even if they may not plan to have any. Who knows if they may end up needing to be around children for a longer time and they have no idea how to do something?" she said with a warning glare on a boy who tried to snatch her spear from behind her.

"If so, I pity those parents who have children but really should let their children be raised by someone else because said parents simply can not care for the children in a good way," Miriwë muttered for himself before readjusting his high ponytail as it had gotten loose from earlier.

~X~X~X~X~X~X~

 _Author's note: I doubt that the first Elves had the same idea of time as their descendants later in Valinor during Years of the Trees and when the Sun and Moon was created to replace the light from the Two Trees, due to only knowing the star-filled sky. Meaning that currently in-story before Valinor, a wake-period is their version of day and sleeping-period are their word for night aka sleeping time. As for why Finiel and Elwë not becoming a couple, well partly for their future canon marriages and not all childhood friends being a good match personality-wise and such. Three times ten and such mentions are their current way of courting, using their ten fingers and toes as a base._


	6. Chapter 6

**Sibling protection**

Autumn had come and nearly changed into winter. Soon the first night frost would come, meaning that thicker clothes were in need of being made.

"Miriwë? How are the sewing lessons going?" asked one parent as she passed by outside the large weaving hut. Right now Miriwë was holding lessons for the children in the tribe who were old enough to sew without messing up too badly.

"No need to worry, everything's going well over here," he smiled in response, nodding to the Elflings to hold up the pieces they had been training their sewing on. Since he had suggested they take inspiration from the nature around the camp, many showed images of a tree or even an attempted portrait that looked fairly uneven.

"All right, I was just wondering."

Miriwë understood her inquisitiveness, as some of the Elflings could be more difficult in training than their peers. It was mostly because of their personalities and not neglectful parents, which was not accepted at all in their tribe. If a couple found out that they were unable to care for a child properly for some reason, they were expected to ask relatives for help. Separating a child from the birth parents was not acceptable, unless it was for either the child's or the parents' best. The tribe lived or died by the proper raising of children.

"What do you youngsters say about a small break and taking a quick wash in the river? Summer heat can be pretty troublesome, don't you agree?"

Several joyful cheers greeted him as answer. Telling some of the parents where they would be going, Miriwë led the Elflings out from the camp towards the river.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

The river water was blessedly cold in the summer heat. Keeping an eye on the Elflings, Miriwë gently scolded some of the boys for almost holding down each others under the water while he helped a younger girl to wash her thick hair.

"No fighting, I would rather not have to explain to your parents why you nearly drowned during my watch."

Thankfully, the boys obeyed his order and apologized to each others.

"Lord Miriwë, is it true that you are so beautiful that females from other tribes actually have tried to kidnap you as a possible mate?"

"Yes, sadly that is true. It is why Beril rarely allows me to leave the tribe without anyone coming along. She means well, and while I can fight and defend myself very good now as a adult, I can still be taken by surprise if someone manages to outsmart me," he confessed while he checked on his handiwork, making sure the braid was set in its place. A loud yell of pain from the shore was heard, from a small boy who had been unlucky enough to step straight on a ground-dwelling wasp. Ordering the other children up from the water, Miriwë went up on the shore to check on the crying boy. Thankfully, the wasp had not strung him too deeply in the sole of his foot, but he would need to be checked over by the tribe shamans in case of a possible infection.

"Come, we will dress and go back to camp so this youngster can get check…"

Miriwë stopped talking at the sound of hooves coming closer. Given that the tribe had made some obstacles in order to prevent the horses from being attacked and to protect their flax plants from hooves, he realized that it must be a stray horse not belonging to their herd.

"Get out of the way, stray horses can be…!"

Suddenly Miriwë felt someone lay an arm around his waist, pulling him up on the horse as the rider rode past the group of children.

"Miriwë!"

"Let go of Miriwë!"

The Elflings was nowhere as fast as they would have needed to run after the horse, but they could alarm the adults about the kidnapping and that they did.

" _LAAAAAADY BEEEERIL!_ Miriwë's kidnapped!"

Miriwë was no stranger to kidnapping attempts by unknown She-elves who acted out of blind lust after him as a possible mate. It had happened several times before, and he even knew of a case where the female actually had been banished from her tribe as a result of trying to force him into becoming her mate. The rider was that She-elf.

"Did you not learn your lesson last time," he protested, "with my sister nearly killing you and being banished from your tribe!? _I will not become your mate!_ "

Pulling out a small flint dagger he had hidden on his thigh so that it were concealed by his knee-long tunic, Miriwë stabbed her arm so she was forced to let go of him in the unexpected pain. He was no stranger to falling off a horse in high speed since trying out his first horse a long time ago, so he simply rolled along the ground to lessen the impact.

"Do not play with me! As the brother of a tribe leader, you are the highest-ranking male of that tribe unless she takes a mate herself! I want a handsome father to my children, not some common man!"

Again Miriwë mentally cursed that females were mostly drawn to him for his exotic appearance rather than for any other features, and tried to avoid getting dragged back up on the nervous horse from the ground by her, since the horse seemed to be rather unused to have a rider on its back. Granted, a single flint dagger was not much of a weapon but at least he proved to be a quick thinker in that he scurried up into a tall apple tree to escape her.

"Get back down here!"

As response, Miriwë proved a somewhat childish thinking in bombing her with some still unripe apples from top of the apple tree. Why not use what he had at hand, rather than wasting time in hope that help would come quickly?

"I choose my own mate when I want to, and that is not you! Get that into your thick skull for once and stop trying to force me into a mating I do not want unless you want Beril to put you to death when she learns of this!"

Miriwë was serious in his threat, it would not be the first time Beril had needed to kill someone to stop a kidnapping attempt on him and he was not fully sure if he could manage to kill someone in cold blood. He could not be as calm like her in such moments, the two siblings shared a agreement over that.

"Hands off my brother!"

Beril honestly looked ready to kill where she came riding with her best fellow riders behind her own horse, she had that aura whatever she found orcs to kill or when her brother was in serious danger out of his own control. Sure, his silver hair up in the tree top told her that Miriwë had managed to partly escape and at least gotten out of reach for the other female, but that did not mean that she would escape punishment. This was the second time she had tried to kidnap Miriwë in order to force him into becoming her mate against his will, and for that she would pay with her life. Few would accept someone who had been banished from the home tribe for a serious crime.

"Miriwë, get back home to the camp, I need to teach this fool a lesson."

Since his sister now was between the apple tree and the other She-elf, he could climb down and get up behind one of the other riders to ride home to the camp. It was unnecessarily that Miriwë would have to see a brutal execution when Beril was in this mood.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

At the same time, Ingwë had been forced with deal with another complaint about that the Vanyar needed a bigger space in the camp for the growing families. As a result, they had moved a bit further away from the Noldor and Teleri camps in the hope of not getting too close for discomfort.

"I do hope that Finiel and Elwë find their future mates soon. They have never refused to speak to each other longer than seven wake-periods at the highest. I think that quarrel hit them harder than planned, so for them to not have spoken together in over six times ten wake-periods… granted, Elwë likely needed to do that journey he is still out on in order to get rid of some stream resulting from that quarrel, but I am not liking how it currently looks for my two friends..."

It worried him a lot. Had their friendship reached a such low bottom that it would be impossible to be actual friends again out of wounded pride?

"Ingwë!"

The sudden voice behind him caused Ingwë to nearly drop the small bowl with soft-boiled pieces of pear he was trying to feed Ingwion with the help of a large scallop shell as spoon, much to the joy to his young son who now tried grab the spilled food in his tiny fists in order to eat with his hands instead. Even with a small fur blanket on the ground to prevent the food from getting dirty, Ingwë knew that his son would end up messy no matter what he did now.

"Not the best timing to arrive, Vanië. I would have liked you to wait until that Ingwion had finished his meal, now he will not eat the last pieces," Ingwë said while calmly avoiding to be hit with a half-mashed pear piece his son threw at him. Despite his new duties as chief of the Vanyarin Clan, he still tried to spend time with his family as he did not want them to feel that he was neglecting them. Vanië snorted in dismissal over what her older brother had said, not really bothering to listen to him. Being at least one-hundred winters younger than him, she had never truly gotten a real sibling-relationship with Ingwë because he had already been a adult and moved out from the family hut when he had joined Isilmiel in a mating ceremony just two seasons before the reveal that his mother was pregnant with her second child.

"It is almost another winter season coming, and no mate in sight this time!"

Oh great, another one of her rants about not finding a mate yet and refusing to listen to his suggestions in that she may need to change her behaviour for a better chance. Ingwë mentally tried to block out the voice of his sister as Ingwion now needed to get his hands and face cleaned from the mashed food. He was still only learning to talk and walk with support, but clearly intending to try to do things himself.

"Aya, aya!" Ingwion grinned, shrieking in joy as Ingwë used a wet linen cloth piece to wash off his face and hands.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

By now, Miriwë had been brought back to the tribe camp and given an herbal drink from the shamans which would help him calm down his nerves from this event.

"It is attempted forced matings like this… having to always be on my guard, which only shows even more that I need to find a mate soon… if I had the markings of having a mate, maybe I finally would not have to worry about this to happen…" he confessed in a slightly shaking voice, revealing the shock over the attempted kidnapping. Miriwë did not know the exact numbers it had happened, but it was enough many to leave deep emotional scars along with a long-lasting trauma.

"And even if you are strong, you would need a strong female mate to help you stop this kind of danger if you are unable to protect yourself for some reason. You have been injured at times too," one of his friends said, sitting down beside Miriwë before laying a hand on his shoulder as support. He nodded, recalling how he had ended up with a dislocated shoulder and a broken ankle once just because of a such attempted kidnapping. Beril had freaked out when she had seen his injuries, in fact the whole tribe had done that. Miriwë had never doubted that due to inventing sewing and weaving to create better clothes, he meant a lot to their tribe and it was at times like this that it was proven more than ever. They all accepted that he would need to find a mate eventually, but he was pretty sure that it would be a hard task for that She-elf to prove herself worthy in the eyes of the tribe.

"And knowing everyone, I doubt that they would accept anyone who may try to challenge Beril over the title as tribe leader…"

As the brother of the tribe leader, Miriwë was the highest-ranked male in the tribe until that Beril found a mate of her own.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Once Beril had executed the other She-elf, the event becoming a lot more bloody and out-drawn than planned due to her anger born out of worry for her brother and the other female Elf having made resistance, she knew that she could not show up in the camp with blood all over herself and her clothes.

"I better wash off, or the mothers will scold me for scaring the Elflings."

Now, blood on the body was not an uncommon sight in the tribe, but there was some lines better not crossed, even if you were the tribe leader. It was one thing if it was happening while slaughtering the prey that they had killed during the hunt or injuries from accidents, but a whole different thing if it was done without thinking because of poor control over their feelings. Self-discipline was an important part of their culture, and for a good reason as well. Someone who acted without thinking ahead tended to get themselves killed with time. Beril knew four cases of such Elves from her tribe, all who had ended up killed thanks to their own actions in some way.

Finding a nice spot in the river below a large willow tree, Beril stripped out of her clothing and stepped down in the water. Rubbing the blood off her linen tunic, she hopped that Miriwë would not complain too much at seeing that one of the sleeves had been torn. He hated when clothes, so carefully made with his own hands, got ruined thanks to a careless movement or on purpose.

"We both can be pretty fussy over things when it is something we can not stand…"

Suddenly, she heard something behind her, a dry branch breaking under a much bigger weight. Using what she had, Beril sent her wet tunic flying into the bushes after throwing it around her head like she would had done with a sling.

"Ow!"

A voice, following after a hit, revealed itself to be male. Had one of the youngsters tried to peek on her again? There had been some silly bet about it earlier in the summer, quickly vanishing after that she had shown her displeasure over it. Grabbing her spear as she rushed out from the river along with a long bone hairpin normally used to set up her braided ponytail, Beril tossed the spear first. Whoever the male Elf was, he was forced to move out of the spear's way and thus was unprepared when she suddenly grabbed his wrist and threw him over her head. It was not an easy task, seeing that he was much taller than herself. Though she did use the hanging branches of the willow tree to move away from the spot where he landed in the river. In the same spinning movement, she used her cloak to cover herself up.

"That height and silver hair seems oddly familiar from the summer when we visited the other clans…" she thought just as he returned to the surface, looking ready to kill.

The sounds of the splashing sounds, following after their new leader's sudden yell in surprise from a small distance away, had surprised the small group of Elves he had been travelling with.

"Did he slip on a spot of mud?" one of them asked, stopping as he was about to lay down the small pile of branches he had gathered for the fire.

"More like hitting his head on a tree branch thanks to that height of his, it is several weeping willows around here."

Nods and words in agreement, Elwë's unusual height was already infamous, much to his own distaste due to the jokes that his height would maybe a hint to that he was unusually well-formed on other parts of the body as well.

"Though...what if he is injured? I better go and check on him," one of the warriors spoke as he rose to look where Elwë was. He was stopped by several hands grabbing hold of the cloak he was wearing.

"No, no! Lord Elwë would not want to be seen by someone right now if he fell into the river for some reason. He thinks it is embarrassing to be seen with wet clothes on."

It was a few raised eyebrows over that Elwë would fuss over something which happened every time it rained, but no one else commented on it.

Elwë learned pretty quickly in the hard way that despite his taller height, Beril was more used to fighting not only orcs and wild animals, but also her fellow Elves. It was not for nothing that she had earned the epithet of "Spear Lady" as a sign of deep respect for her fighting skills with a spear. As a result, he found himself knocked once more under the surface thanks to getting a non-fatal hit with the round end of her spear straight on his forehead.

"That better teach you to not try and sneak up on someone as they washed." Beril said with her back against the river, as Elwë glared at her but did not dare to get up more than his head above the surface. Two forced landings into the river was enough.

"As if I even wanted to look on any bathing Elf right now…" Elwë muttered for himself below the surface so she did not hear, yet carefully tried to move alongside the water flow in order to get away from her. Thankfully, Beril was too busy in getting up on the back of her horse to notice, though her wet tunic had twisted very tightly around her upper body so her female form was slightly accentuated.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Naturally, Beril was in a less than pleasant mood at returning back home to the camp, though everyone thought it was over nearly getting her younger brother kidnapped in that manner.

"Where is Miriwë?" she asked, taking a offered water skin and drinking some of the water inside before giving it back. She was pointed towards the weaving hut, meaning that he likely tried to deal with the attempted kidnapping in his own way; by either weaving or sewing to focus his mind on something which pleased him.

"I will be with him, he will need it," she said while taking a warmer cloak made of wolf fur.

Indeed Miriwë was inside the hut, but the way his hands created a mess out of the wool instead of actually spinning it into a fine thread as he normally would do told her about his current state of mind. He would most likely not be in the best of moods for the next coming awake-periods. This attempted kidnapping had been dangerously close separate them from each other forever; Miriwë would rather try to kill himself at the earliest opportunity than living with a female who had taken him as a mate against his will.

"Little brother?"

He did not answer, but moved slightly aside to give Beril room to sit down beside him. Before doing so, she placed the wolf cloak over his shoulders and around his body.

"Your hands are trembling," she observed. "You need to become warm in order to calm down."

Beril nodded to one of his young students to tie up the two animal skins in the doorway, which used to be rolled down as a closing of the doorway of the hut, so it could be more light inside. Even if the starlight did not reach in so deep, the light from the many campfires did.

"Do not shut yourself in away from others, Miriwë. How would we know what is wrong, if we can not see you and possibly help?" she smiled, to which he returned a small, sad smile. At least, he seemed less upset for the moment and that was good enough for now. As different as they were in personality, the two siblings could court on each other trying to help out when the other needed it. And with what had happened today, Miriwë needed Beril as emotional support.

"Who wants salmon? We got a nice, huge catch today, so let's feast!" one of the tribe fishermen suddenly called out aloud, as he and his fellow fishermen returned with what they had managed to catch in the deeper parts of the river.

"What do you say, Miriwë?" Beril asked. "Some salmon for dinner tonight?"

Later after a pleasant dinner, the two sibling took a short ride on their horses to get rid of some stress from the events of this wake-period. Both were fine riders, capable of riding bareback without any fear of falling off. Their horses were used to them since being foals several summers back, making it easier to handle them.

"A good ride always cleanses the mind of unpleasant things before it is time for sleeping."

"Indeed."

In fact, Miriwë had a more happy glow in his grey eyes now. It was in moments like this that they seemed to shine extra bright, responding to his various emotions. No one else in the tribe had that light in their eyes, even if all Elves were born with some of the distant starlight in their eyes unlike any of the animals. The shamans believed it to be a sign of that he may have an important fate in the future, though they had yet to catch any hints of what kind of fate it was. They had also hinted to that Beril could possibly become linked to the fate of an leader for one of the bigger Elven Clans, but if it was as a future mate or thought friendship, was harder to say.

"No matter what happens in the future, we will remain brother and sister all our lives. A family can be torn apart for so many different reasons, but that is a fate I do not wish to happen to us two, not after the way we lost our parents. Let's promise that no matter what kind of mates we will end up having, we will not allow them to separate us."

To show how serious he was, Miriwë offered Beril his open hand from where he was riding. She responded with taking it without a word, silently agreeing with him over this.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

 _Author's note: It is unfortunate that sexual harassment actually happens to men as well, not just women. Double standards about men and women in such situations can be a double-egged sword, affecting their behaviour and view on the event in question. The scene with Elwë and Beril was inspired by the ending 15 minutes in the 44th episode of the Chinese series Princess Agents._


	7. Chapter 7

**Moving to a new camp**

The winter this year turned out to be a harsh and difficult one. Miriwë and the other clothing makers in the tribe was kept busy, as more fabric for blankets and anything that could help keep the huts warm, was needed. Finding firewood and small games for some fresh meat was also far from easy, even with knowing where to find it.

"I think this is the worst winter I can ever remember in my life yet!" Beril said as she entered the weaving hut, quickly apologizing for the sudden cold wind and snow she brought along inside at the complaints from those sitting straight in the way of the opening.

"Many of the elders says the same, it is a harsh winter indeed."

Beril shook off the snow caught on the wolf fur she was wearing, Miriwë raising an arm to block off the melting snow from landing on the fabric he just had finished weaving. It was meant to become an extra thick blanket for the newest baby in a family which, apparently, had chosen a less than ideal time for being begotten the previous winter. Elflings born in mid-winter and late-winter time was said to be not be as strong as children born in the other seasons due to not having access to nutritious food in the winter in the same scale as during summer, for example.

"Let's hope that it soon will be less snow fall, but it feels like there is another storm coming…"

Suddenly, there were the sounds of thunder fast approaching. Judging from the sounds above the camp, it was most likely a big thunderstorm.

"Oh no...do not tell me that…"

In the next moment, the thunderstorm broke loose all over the sky. Bolts passed by, some of them even hitting one another. The overall noise was deafening, and the resulting light nearly blinded those outside as they were used to the starry sky, not this kind of light.

" **AAAAAH!** "

Terrified screams was heard, more than one of the Elflings had been terrified by the light, now rushing around in honest panic and crying for their mothers.

" _Mama!_ "

" _Get the children back into the huts…!_ "

"That tall tree has been struck by the lighting!"

One of the tallest trees around the camp was now set on fire, and what was even worse, a second lighting bolt spit it in half, now falling straight into the camp.

"Get out of the way, do not just stand there! Run out of the hut!"

Once Beril barked out that order, other Elves were quick to do the same:

"Run, run! Get out of the huts around the weaving hut!"

A push in his back made Miriwë run out, dragging two preteen children with him in order to keep them safe.

It was only by pure luck that no one got stuck under the burning tree, but several huts, among them the weaving hut, were set on fire when the animal skins and dried grass in the walls caught fire from the tree. The strong wind did not help either, in fact more huts risked to be become a sea of fire if they did not put out the growing fire quickly.

"Use the snow as it will melt into water! Make the children help by throwing snowballs from a safe distance!"

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Once the last of the large fire had finally been put out, the full damage was revealed.

"At least ten huts are destroyed or unsafe to live in, including the weaving hut. Nearly half the fence around the camp are ruined due to the burning tree setting it on fire when it landed, meaning higher risk that we will be vulnerable against the Yellow-Eyes if they attack… and the huts with dried meat and fruits were damaged as well, meaning that we have less food than before…"

No one could mistake the dread in Beril's voice as she counted up, this was indeed a grave catastrofe for the tribe. Surviving winters was hard, and with how the weather was currently…

"Allow me to have a meeting with the elders about what to do, try and make sure that no one is seriously injured."

That was something most of the tribe could do. No one had died, thankfully, but several Elves had suffered burns or similar injuries in the panic caused by the first fire. Getting your home set on fire was horrible, especially if you had family members still inside. And in panic, it was easy to trip over things you failed to notice.

"Sorry," Miriwë said as he tried to sew up a wound on a young girl, hoping that with closing the wound by sewing it would not be a big scar later, since she understandably cried from the pain. The mother told him that he did not need to apologize, the fire had shocked everyone in camp and the daughter was very upset over the loss of her beloved straw doll which her father had created earlier in the autumn for her begetting-day.

"The straw doll was lost? Yes, I can understand that would make you very sad, little sweetie. Your father is very skilled in making those dolls and naturally his own daughter would get the finest work he can make," Miriwë assured as he finished the last stitch. The girl had been the last one of Elves in need of his sewing skills for closing the wounds, it was only during the last few years that some of the tribe hunters had suggested to Miriwë that he would try to sew up wounds after boiling the thread and bone needle in hot water first to avoid infections.

"With nearly half the camp destroyed… and in winter, the worst season… we are very vulnerable right now, against the cold with fewer huts and with the fence ruined as well…"

Everyone knew what this meant, a much higher risk of Orc attacks. They could set out guards around the camp, since the tribe was pretty big with at least 300 members in total numbers, but those would need to be changed regularly and not everyone in the tribe was able of using deadly weapons for various reasons such as age, injuries or just plainly what they worked with in the tribe.

"Let's hear that Beril and the Elders will say, before doing anything else than the necessary."

It was almost time for the evening meal, the food being prepared for cooking in the clay pots, when the camp saw their leader and the Elders again. All of them looked serious, but who would not do that in a situation like this? Beril took a deep breath before addressing everyone present:

"We needed to talk a lot after the fire, as you all must have noticed. It took some time to get into a full agreement, but we have finally agreed on what which is needed to be done—we need to abandon this camp and move closer to a larger camp with other Elves _ **.**_ "

Even if she did not say it out aloud, the adults realized the unspoken reasons. It was near impossible to repair the fence now in winter with snow and the winter cold, their food supply had decreased due to the fire, and several of the huts could not be used anymore because of burning down to the ground.

"I take that we will leave as soon as possible, then, sister?" Miriwë asked while his sister was on the way to walk past him.

"Preferably after breakfast tomorrow. The faster we can get away from here, the lesser the risk that the Yellow-eyes will see that our camp is vulnerable from the fire today."

That was reasonable enough, and would give them time to pack everything needed for the travel. The tents made of animal skins was not as comfortable as the huts in winter, but sleeping together would make more heat to stand against the night cold.

As per orders, once a quick breakfast was finished, everyone helped to pack together what they could bring along. Miriwë had been worried that they would need to leave the warp-weighted looms behind because of their size and weight, but Beril had insisted that those needed to be brought along so they could still weave clothes as usual. Lucky, some of the horses and dogs had been trained to pull a sleigh with a board harness of leather and skin across the chest and shoulders, meaning that those who could not ride the horses or using the skis of wood could travel in the sleighs. The more heavy loads, which was not safe for the horses to carry if having several parts, went into those sleighs as well.

"Everyone ready? Then lets go!"

Taking the lead, Beril rode out of the old camp first, other riders following her or making the dogs start pulling the sleighs. Miriwë, who had offered to be one of the scots riding ahead in order to check for danger, took one final look on the camp over his shoulder. It felt sad to leave the the place called home for so many years, but his sister was right; they needed to move closer to other Elven tribes for safety. Winters was dangerous times, for several reasons.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Many wake-periods later, the three new leaders for the Noldor, Teleri and Vanyar clans was holding a meeting together to help sorting some issues which had happened between the camps. In general it was no big things, but it was important to ensure that it did not end up growing into bigger problems in the long run.

"Thank you for coming. Any others who needs our help in solving a problem?" Ingwë asked to another Elf, while stoking the fire with a small piece of wood, planning to build some hot tea for his friends and himself by adding some dried herbs into the boiling water in the pot over the fire.

"Not at the moment… hm?"

It seemed to be some kind of crowd gathering at the left side of the Noldor camp. Excusing himself to his leader, the Vanyarin Elf hurried away to see what it was.

"Hopefully it is just some of the kids getting into a disagreement," Finiel said while Elwë only nodded. They had finally started to talk again to each others when he had returned from the small travel earlier that autumn, but Ingwë had a strong feeling that he needed to watch his two friends. A new argument like that one, could possible damage their friendship to the point that it was ruined beyond repairing.

"Those two really need to find a mate each. I can almost feel in the air that some of their issues is sexual tension normally fixed with a long, nice time of letting body and soul melt into each other," he thought with a not so small part of longing for that especially powerful night when he and Isilmiel had begotten Ingwion. The shock of first sensing that tiny little soul come into being, followed by a stunned joy as they had realized what it meant.

"My lords and lady, there is a tribe leader asking for an audience with you three. Something about needing a new camp around here…" a messenger Elf spoke from the hut's door opening, awaiting an answer to give.

"Allow them into camp, and have the leader arrive here."

To be fair, neither one of the trio of friends expected who the tribe leader was. As Beril entered the hut followed by Miriwë, Finiel blushed slightly at the sight of the brother while Elwë gave her an angry glare in memory of their first meeting at the river a few months ago. Ingwë elbowed them both in the ribs, easily done since he was sitting in the middle, to remind the two to not act stupid now.

"Welcome, lady Beril. I admit that we had expected the next meeting until summer-time, but I guess that there is a reason for you to arrive here?" Ingwë asked to which she nodded before telling how their tribe's old camp had been partly destroyed from the fire in the thunderstorm and now hoped that there would be a place close this big camp where they could live.

"Well, the big lake is at the south, so that is ruled out…"

"And the Teleri camp is growing as well, there is no place there unless the two camps were to overlap," Elwë said straight away, to which Beril raised an eyebrow against him.

"Finiel?"

"Well… the Noldor camp is more towards the forests, but I do not know if we would be able to fell trees to make room for a new camp there, not in this cold season at least…" she confessed while trying to not stare straight on Miriwë who was standing at the door opening. It seemed like Beril had caught that on as well, with the way she suddenly blocked the view of her brother by standing in front of him. Sensing a possible danger, Ingwë was quick to say:

"Your tribe is welcome to share camp with the Vanyar until spring comes and you can set up a camp of your own beside us."

Beril nodded in agreement, before silently ordering Miriwë outside with a head nod. He could lead the tribe to their new place of living while she finished the last part of the agreement with Ingwë.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Of course, they had not expected it to go smoothly. Having a new group of Elves settle up camp among those who already was there, was an invitation for troubles. There was a few arguments and protests the first days, before things calmed down somewhat.

At the time of spring arriving, Beril and Miriwë was pleased to see that their tribe had blended in nicely among the bigger ones and there seemed to not be any issues.

"Well, sis, looks like our tribe is living a good life here. I miss the old camp in the oak forest at times, but I understands why you wanted to move here for better protection," he said after finishing sewing a new leather belt for her.

"Thank you for the belt. I will be around if you need me."

She did not say why, but Miriwë knew. He generally tried to avoid places where he could run into young She-elves who may swoon at his presence.

"I will bring this cloak to lady Finiel," Miriwë said, to explain where he would go, "she requested a new one a few weeks ago since her old one was getting very worn out."

Beril nodded, knowing that new Noldor leader was unlikely to try anything against her brother despite the look in her eyes at times. As a leader, her behaviour was often closely watched by those around her to ensure that any bad habit was not repeated by children around.

"I will be back as soon as I can."

Given Miriwë's history of rather aggressive attempts to sexual assaults from She-elves in the past, he had made a habit of always bringing a friend with him if he was to leave his own tribe. Today, he was joined by a Noldor Elf named Rumil who he had befriended over the winter season.

"You are still trying to figure out a different way to use tattoos?" Miriwë wondered at seeing that the red henna tattoos on his friend's arms seemed to have been altered, especially as Rumil was not a warrior and thus did not have any permanent tattoos on his body.

"Yes, I can not get that idea out of my mind," he confessed, ruffing a hand through his black hair. Miriwë used side-glares to look on the tattoos, almost seeing a pattern of some kind. He could tell that Rumil had a point, but that his friend still had some time to figure out what he was searching for.

Soon enough, they spotted Finiel just as she left a hut, likely belonging to one of her female friends.

"Ah, there you were, Miriwë! I was beginning to wonder when the cloak would be finished." she smiled at him.

"It is harder to weave in winter due to the cold season, even if it is warm inside the weaving hut," he explained while holding out the cloak so she could see it in all its length. For some reason, he had felt extra inspired when making it, in a strange way he had not been before. Perhaps from knowing who it was to? Miriwë had been having crushes on She-elves before ever since he was old enough to understand the meaning of romance, but this was nothing like how it had been with the others.

"Well, I am pleased with this cloak. It is very nice to see new ways of creating clothes, as it is pretty hard to find enough soft grass for weaving clothes during winter and we can not hunt too many animals."

Miriwë nodded in agreement, choosing to keep quiet as he doubted that it might come out as planned. After some more small talk, Finiel left to do some of her other duties.

"You likes her, right?" Rumil spoke once she had left, and Miriwë could only blush slightly. That much was true, but he was unsure if she felt the same. As a Clean leader, Finiel could not just choose anyone to be her mate, it had to be someone who could lead the Noldor if something happened to her before a pregnancy and did not have a chosen backup heir.

"I will need to speak with Beril as well. I am free to marry who I wishes, but I would like my mate and my sister to get along with each other since I would prefer to not choose between them in a bitter argument…"

A movement in the corner of his eye forced him to stop talking, before Miriwë tried to avoid Vanië. She had bothered him a lot ever since a meeting earlier that winter when Ingwë had greeted his whole family, and seemed to not respect his refusal at all.

"Miss Vanië, I have told you that I am _not_ interested in a courtship between us," Miriwë said aloud, having spotted a male Vanyarin Elf who was rumoured to hope taking Vanië as a possible mate and he did not want to be caught in a situation that could be horribly misunderstood. Vanië was a pretty young She-elf, that was true, and she was much sought-after as a sister to the leader of the Vanyarin elves, but Miriwë had felt an instinct to not trust her for some strange reason, as if she would bring a great deal of unhappiness towards him one day in the future. If it was some kind of warning, he did not know, but he had never had any reason to doubt his instincts before.

"Why? Everyone knows that as the sister…"

He quickly cut off her incoming bragging about her social status as Ingwë's sister with five simple words:

"You are _not_ my type."

Miriwë knew that he was inviting himself to suffer her wrath by saying the truth, but he really did want Vanië to stop pestering him and trying to hook him as a future mate. If she did not respect his personal space at this state, then there was a very high risk that she would not respect the personal wishes of a future mate either. And he would rather be seen as a coward in refusing her than risk a unhappy life.

"You…!"

Her fair face now marred by wrath, Vanië raised a hand to strike Miriwë, yet Rumil used a cut-off piece of reed to distract her by jabbing at her hand, and when she turned around to face him, Miriwë realized what he had done, and hurried away as Rumil took the slap originally meant for him.

Beril had just finished a training match when her brother came running into the clan camp and hid himself inside their shared home hut. Everyone who saw it only grew more confused when Rumil arrived quickly afterwards, his left cheek spotting a red handprint that would not have matched the long, slender hands Miriwë had.

"Rumil, what happened? Did you and my brother have a disagreement?" she asked in worry. Rumil, who had been offered a wet piece of cloth to lay against his swelling cheek, responded:

"Not us, lady Beril, but I think lord Ingwë really should try and have his sister partake in the mating ceremony this summer, and to a mate that is _not_ Miriwë, for her own good before she does something to him that will turn things ugly."

Realizing the untold words, Beril's black eyes grew hard in cold fury. She said nothing but the brutal way in which she drove her spear into the training target told everything what she thought about this.

"I will go and talk to Ingwë about this _unacceptable_ behaviour of his sister. Ensure that no one bothers Miriwë until I return, please. He has enough of an unpleasant past with young females that do not respect him and only sees his fair face."

No one dared to protest, not when knowing how protective Beril was of her only sibling.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

True enough, only days later there was rumours of Ingwë seeking for a mate for his sister, and that he was set on having her joined to a mate after the summer festival. Why, most people did not know but there was some small gossip of Vanië possibly risking to make herself heavy with child if she was not mated soon. While it was no big scandal about a unwed mother refusing to name the father of her child, it was in general preferable that a mother-to-be had a husband at her side since otherwise she risked to become a burden to her own family who gained a extra mouth to feed by her unborn child. For families that already struggled with having enough food for growing Elflings in various ages, that could be a lot of trouble. And even worse if the mother-to-be was an orphan, since that would mean that the whole tribe had to ensure that she had food, clothes and a roof over her head.

Anyone with common sense feared to become a burden to the home tribe or clan, as that would mean the lowest social status of them all; that of someone could not care for himself or herself at all. Injuries and sickness was one legal excuse, but attempting to live off others without anything in return was not.

Miriwë was sewing a new tunic when he heard about those rumours about Vanië's soon-to-be changed future.

"I hope that Ingwë will manage to find her a good mate and future father to her children, then," was all he said. Despite not liking Vanië, it would be very out of character for him to wish an unhappy marriage for her. In that way, he was milder in his temper than Beril, thought there was the rare time when they had proved to be siblings when being angry for some reason.

"And I am glad that she will not marry you. I like Ingwë as a fellow clan leader, but if his sister behaves like that towards you despite your open protests, we can not trust her to listen to any attempt to stop her. Yes, making her marry this summer may be a bit desperate, but if it is the only way to make her stop bothering you…"

Beril felt a bit of shame over all of this, especially as Ingwë had confessed similar fears about his sister's behaviour since he had gotten similar complaints from other families that she had been behaving in a less than acceptable way towards a son or brother, but as things looked right now, there was no other way around the problem: Either Vanië had to get joined with a mate soon, or Beril would have to move her tribe away to give her brother peace. And since Beril had preferred to not need to move her small tribe for the second time in only two seasons, she and Ingwë did agree on that Vanië were to be among the brides to be in the mating ceremonies this coming summer festival.

"Sister dear, it is not your fault. You are only doing what you and Ingwë think is for the best."

By now, Miriwë had finished the tunic laying on his crossed legs, reaching over to take her long hair and transform it into a braid which would fall long her back.

At the same time, Vanië felt both angry and humiliated as never before. Ingwë had always threaten her that one day, she would go too far in her manners against male Elves she found attractive and she would find herself among the brides for the next mating ceremony as punishment, one reason or another. Now he had made that threat come true, this was to be her last season as a unwed maiden before being mated to a Vanyarin hunter. Someone she had spoken with at times, yet also dismissed as not being a man of her taste.

"As if I will be pleased with a marriage not of my own choosing! I wanted to be the wife of a chieftain, not some common hunter! That Miriwë...how _dare_ he refuse me as a mate?! As if Finiel is prettier than me…!"

In reality, the truth simply was that she really was not someone Miriwë truly fancied when it came to a life-long mate, and he had been drawn to Finiel because she was similar to Beril in being a leader, which Vanië failed to realize. The blonde She-elf was already beginning to think out how to serve a revenge best served cold to Finiel and Miriwë over this change in her life, as she did not dare to go against her brother and she was honestly terrified of Beril's skills with a spear.

"Should I try to… no, no, a daughter would be seen through straight away, especially by those who knows that I have tried to hook Miriwë as a mate!"

Then she realized something, which could work even better as revenge over this. A cruel smile marred her fair face as she went out from the hut to meet up with her future husband, who had been chosen by Ingwë the same morning.

" _ **Let's see how well you can hide Finiel's eyes and heart from a younger rival one day, Miriwë! I shall wait, I shall await the glorious day to see you replaced by her side as a consort by my future son! All I will need, is for you to make a mistake that shall doom your life with her!**_ "

Laughing in triumph at the mental image she had floating in her mind,Vanië gave a false smile as greeting to her future husband as he looked up in surprise at seeing her come over to him.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

 _Author's note: Let's just say that some people can go to great heights of planning future revenge for a public humiliation, especially when love and lust are involved into the mess as well._


	8. Chapter 8

Even if he was not among the couples joined together that summer, Miriwë was still pleased. With Vanië married, he had one less trouble to think of now. He were still only in the early stages of a possible relationship with Finiel and did not want anything to sour it to the point that it all broke down.

"You seems to be pleased today," Mathan said at seeing the good mood his friend was in. They were borrowing a pottery kiln testing to see if the copper could be made into something else, a new shape for instance. Mahtan had even found a strange white thing deep inside a cave, which could be melted in a pot over fire as well. Now he was planning to see if it could be mixed with copper.

"Watch it now."

Using two very long sticks, bound together with a snare, he carefully pulled out the pot with the melted tin and added it to the already melted-down copper. A smaller stick was used to try and mix it together, before Mahtan once again lifted it into a shaped form of hard clay.

"I do not think it is meant to sound…"

Before Miriwë finished, the hard clay cracked apart and the the attempted bronze fell out on the ground, which thankfully was of sand and not dry grass that could be set on fire.

"Hm. Guess that the heat was too low or something," Mahtan muttered in displeasure. He really wanted to find a way to create better weapons for hunting and for killing orcs, yet so far he felt having a feeling that he was very limited in his attempts. Like lacking the knowledge in how to use a forge.

"Or it could another problem?" Celuwen suggested as she came back from the river with fresh water in the water skins, using a long stick to carry them all over a shoulder. Neither one of them had any answer.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

This day, Miriwë helped Finiel in her first riding lessons. Horses was not so common here among the various clans, less so for riding. So he had picked out the most mindly-minded mare among the births three summers ago and carefully trained her with the help of his friends.

"Easy now, don't be scared. Horses can sense the mood of people," he warned in a stern voice.

Finiel wanted to say that she was not scared, but rather… something else. _Jealous._ Jealous of the many skills Miriwë seemed to have, many which made her feel inferior despite being of a higher social status. She had never been that great on cooking, she was hopeless at attempting to sew with needle and tread despite help from him, and he had a personality that made people at ease around him. Finiel had been told at times that she had a bad habit of indirectly playing favoritism and that she could be too hasty in making decisions. And what was worse, she was jealous over that warm relationship Miriwë had to his sister Beril. Finiel had never gotten a chance to have a true sibling, with her own parents already dead while she still had been an infant too young to remember them, and seeing Miriwë with his sister as they shared memories of their parents.

"Finiel! Stop daydreaming and straighten up, or you will soon fall off the mare to the ground!" Miriwë warned in a displeased voice at realizing that she was not focusing on what he was trying to teach her.

"Miriwë! One of the hunters have fallen against the pack of wolves we have been trying to get rid of! He is still alive, but he is on the edge between life and dead because of the injuries!"

Her riding lesson had to come to a sudden stop, he was needed by the tribe healers and shamans due to his unrivaled skills with the needle and thread.

* * *

Miriwë hurried to the sick tent, where the injured tribe members would be until recovery. Once he removed the tent opening and saw the injures, he realized why they had needed his help, it was a mess of claw wounds and bite marks.

"We have managed to clean the wounds with hot water and crushed medicinal herbs, but with all this blood…"

Yes, the blood made everything slippery, so he could hardly fault them for being worried for messing up.

"Move aside so I get some room here, please."

Not for the first time, his superior skills in sewing proved very helpful on injuries like this. The hunter would have scars which hopefully would fade with time, and he would live unless an unexpected infection revealed itself from one of the cleaned wounds which Miriwë was now sewing closed.

"Thank you, Miriwë."

"Do not thank me yet, we do not know if he will remain with us or join the afterlife," he responded with a faint hint of worry in his voice. This would not the first time an Elf were lost on a hunt, depending on the prey it could very well end up with the hunter becoming the hunted.

Beril saw her brother leave the sick tent where he had been needed, but she could also see Elwë a bit away, glaring at Miriwë's vanishing back between the huts.

"Care to explain what my little brother have done to earn your indignation, my lord?" she asked without looking up from the rabbit she was currently skinning to have it ready as a evening meal.

"That is none of your business, woman," he said in a rather rude manner without taking his eyes off where Miriwë just had returned to Finiel.

"Is that a correct way of addressing a fellow clan leader?" For even if her tribe was smaller than the Teleri, Beril was still a chieftainess equal to the rest.

She knew that Elwë still had not gotten over the humiliation he had suffered at their first meeting, but she would not allow him to take out his resentment over that event on her brother. She suddenly thrust her spear between his legs, sending Elwë flat on his back to the ground.

"I would watch that mouth if I was you, Long-legs. You can dislike me all you want, but leave Miriwë out of it. Or would _you_ like to be disliked by someone thanks to your young brothers?!"

The last part, meant as a warning, seemed to shut him up for now as he thought it over. Though once Elwë rose to his feet, Beril gave him a warning tap with her spear on his shoulder as an admonition to not forget her words.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Naturally, it soon became hard for people to not notice that the new Noldor leader was spending a lot of time around Miriwë. Some was, understandably, a bit unsure if it truly was wise of her to possibly find a mate in someone who belonged to another tribe than her own people, but others pointed out that a such marriage would bring more warriors to them.

Miriwë himself tried to not listen on gossip, as he now had started to weave on something which he hoped to be worn on a special event. Especially as almost no one outside Beril was allowed to catch a glimpse of it.

"You sure use a lot of colours on this."

He looked up at hearing her enter their hut.

"I had a dream the night before I started on this one. I do not know how to describe what it looked like, but it was a strong fire burning with a strong power...and a star, surrounded by seven smaller fires…"

That was all Miriwë truly could explain the dream as, as it had been so unreal and strange for him. Especially as he also felt like he lacked proper words to describe it with. But he was sure that it had been a omen of his future, something the tribe shamans had agreed on when he had sought them out the morning after the mysterious dream.

"Whatever the dream meant, I hope that it is not gonna be a hot-headed brother-son I will get one day," Beril teased with a slight hit on his arm. Miriwë laughed at the comment.

"It could very well be a brother-daughter too."

Under his hands, a eight-rayed star in white yarn was slowly taking form on the loom, surrounded by his brightest yellow and red-dyed yarns, all made by adding the yarn to pots which first had been filled with boiling water before adding fresh weld leaves and flower stalks and then leave it overnight to gain the right yellow colour. He had done the same with madder root to get the red colour.

"Whatever the dream means, it sure gave you a unusual inspiration for a mating cloak at least."

A knock on the wooden structure to keep the hut up, was heard and Ingwë showed himself.

"My apologies, but could either one of you possibly watch Ingwion for a little? Neither my own parents or Isilmiel's parents can watch him at the moment for various reasons and my sister is still too busy with learning how to live apart from her family hut with her husband…"

"Of course we can watch him for a little time if that is what you need, come in here, little one." offered Miriwë, much to the blond father's relief as having a toddler present at a important clan meeting would distract him a lot. Ingwion had just barely mastered the art of walking, and thus pretty much stumbled into the hut with a eager curiosity as Beril caught him.

"Egh!" he almost shrieked as a greeting the siblings, as he recognized Beril somewhat from seeing her talking at times with his ada. And naturally, he wanted to check if he could eat Miriwë's silver hair, as babies tended to view it as tasty-looking thanks to the unusual colour.

"No, no, my hair is not for eating, I am afraid, little one."

Instead they gave Ingwion a baby-safe leather piece to play with and bite on, if that was needed.

Another Elf that Beril and Miriwë had befriended, was a Teleri Elf named Cirdan. He was one of the First Ones, the followers who had awoken under the stars after the third Elf-Father Enel and his mate Enelyë.

" _A tale of the stars, try and find the signs of what might be hidden…_ " he sang softly for himself, watching the calm waters of Cuiviénen as the stars was mirrored in the lake. Around him, several youngsters and maidens were dancing together.

"Come on, Cirdan, come and dance with us!" a young child pleaded, tugging on the tunic which he had gotten from Miriwë as a gift.

"Take it easy, it is not necessary to be that fast in dancing."

~X~X~X~X~X~X

The next morning, Beril went to find Finiel. They needed to have a talk between four eyes, especially as the relationship between the other leader and her brother became more and more deep for every passing wake-period.

As per a spoken agreement a few days earlier, they met at the border of the forest outside the large Noldor camp.

"What was it that you wishes to talk about, Beril? Clearly something not meant for the ears of others."

Beril looked over Finiel, closer at her behaviour and the way she talked. A part of her was not ready to let go of Miriwë, the only remaining relative left in her life until that she took a mate of her own and had offspring, but she knew that she had to let him go his own way eventually. She would not be able to protect him forever.

"I know that Miriwë likes you a lot, and you like him in return. However, as the younger brother to me, the leader of our tribe, he cannot just be given awaylike a trade gift to someone else. I admit to being somewhat overprotective of him because we both were very young when we lost our parents, but I truly want him to be with someone I can trust to protect him."

Taking hold of her spear, Beril pointed its sharp flint tip against Finiel. Her black eyes showed how serious this was for her, as she said:

"If you cannot win over me in four out of seven duels, in seven wake-periods, I will not view you as worthy of my brother. Is that acceptable?"

At first, Finiel looked shocked over what Beril had said before she realized that this could be her best chance to have her permission to take Miriwë as a mate. Raising her hand, she took hold of Beril spear tip as a sign of accepting the challenge.

"Ten wake-periods from now, middle of the Noldor camp," she responded.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

 _Author's note: For those who wonder, Mahtan did try to make bronze at the start of the chapter, a little foreshadowing in that he is known as a smith in canon. Yes, you can actually dye yarn and other fabric with weld flowers and madder root. If you go online to check, there are many ways and even instructions to dye with natural resources, and since the story currently is set in the "Stone Age" for the Tolkien Elves, they would add colour to their clothes like this._

 _Given that Miriel in canon is mentioned for her skills in art of weaving and needlework, it is only logical that Miriwë have those skills as well due to being a gender swapped version of her._


End file.
